My bedtime blog is a quick read. It’ll only take a couple of minutes just before you switch off the light and snuggle under the duvet…
So, just imagine if you are a sock. Are you made to be short or long? Do you only reach the ankle and is your destiny to slip only into a shoe?
Were you designed for a reason or a purpose? To provide warmth and comfort, joy or snugness or, do you deign to think outside the box and imagine your role in life is greater and that you have a more important purpose?
A sock and an author may have more in common than you realise. They certainly have more than one purpose and they can also go hand in hand, so to speak. You see, keeping warm and snuggled up is like cuddling up with happy, relaxing or exciting prose. A good book is as comfortable as a warm and cosy sock but — there’s so much, so much more….
A sock must be adventurous.
A sock must be versatile, subtle and accessible. It’s pointless being a thin sock in the middle of winter if there’s a storm outside and boots need to be worn. Just as it’s no good being a thick sock in the height of summer with 35 degrees outside.There’s a sock for all occasions and sometimes they’re not even needed at all. The right sock is like finding the right book — at the right time.
So, like finding a book that suits your particular mood, it’s important to be the right sock at the right time. It’s necessary to be appreciated and valued; to be taken off, washed and; not necessarily hung out to dry, but treated tenderly and with care so you can live another day or turn another enjoyable page.
It’s important to be flexible and open to change. To read something out of the ‘norm’ and away from your comfort zone. A text can offer pathos: a smile of sorrow or a tear of joy. It can thaw a cold heart or even cool a heated head. It’s flexible and versatile like using a sock to warm a freezing hand or to slip around your cold neck and tuck into your collar.
Creativity must breathe like the pores in our skin or a pause in our thoughts. It must allow us to inhale rich air, toxic fumes of oxygen, breathing lungfuls of senses into our soul; ripe in colour, rich in taste and funky in sound. It enriches our vocabulary, understands our musings and makes sense of our speculations. And again, like a sock protecting toes, it’s a guarded vessel that will hold all our senses and emotions together.
Or lend it.
Offer your sock to another if they’re cold or their shoes are uncomfortable…
Loan your thoughts, through discourse and discussion. Share beliefs in debate. Boot up and lace your ideas together. Twist and weave them like a neat plot, tying it securely making sure the ideas don’t unravel. Keep the padding in the sole stuffed with generous measures. Pull your socks to your knees and fold them over perhaps you may hold them with a garter?
Socks used in sports are like ideas running amok on the pitch or on the field or like streams of consciousness that fertilise a garden, mulching the labyrinth of the mind.
They chase with us, running the path of life as we battle with ideas, plans, dreams and hopes. Our feet, sometimes with our socks, carry us toward new objectives, horizons and ideas and into the fearful unknown.
It’s the calmness when you find harmony during the hours of solitude walked along a haphazard route. It’s when you’re cold that you will seek shelter. It’s when you have nowhere to turn that you find another route and you pull on your socks with vigour and energy.
You think outside the box. Let your imagination flow. Excited and thrilled. A new journey, an adventure, new pastures… new times — everything is ahead.
With no fear of where it may lead.
A path of darkness is flooded with new light and understanding. Growth provides a way of comprehending and communicating. It’s all life’s pilgrimage. The route of the sock, the vagabond feet, that may lead you astray or give you confidence but like your ideas, it can only protect you only a part of the way.
Raw pain, blistered emotions and battered soles are inevitable along a path of adventure and exploration. And socks, just like an author’s ideas, can become discarded.
But just as a sock can be re-tied, reused and darned to live and tell another story — so can an author. There’s always another tale waiting to be told. Another story ready to be run. Another hill to climb.
Good night, dear reader. Think grand thoughts…
For more information about my writing, please visit my blog:
· How I Research and Write my Novels
· Bedtime Reads — Short stories based on unusual relationships
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