The nature of depression is to suppress not only the light in life but the darkness as well. Depression is insidious, it flattens everything so that that is no feeling in life. It is as if all colour has been drained, nothing tastes of anything, and joy and sorrow have no place. Medication helps as does the tiny sliver of light that the thing you love most brings. For me that is writing.
And so, whilst not flying on meds then at least gliding, I have seen that tiny slice of sunlight.
Over the past day or so and between other work commitments, I have read over all of the writing I have done and posted to this blog. A story, the first I posted, The Silent River, not to be confused with the amazing Kate Grenville’s novel The Secret River, a horse of a very different colour though a masterpiece and well worth looking for, stood out to me as something to which I need to pay closer attention.
Plucked from its cozy little nook in my micro stories section, The Silent River is about to expand, to be given more room to be whatever it wishes to be. I have always felt that the story deserved deeper exploration. What happened to Nerida while she was away? How was she able to remain so young? What happened to her Grandfather when he remained behind, waiting? Is it the place?
The most exciting thing is that I have no idea at all. You might think it to be daunting, wading into the unknown, but it isn’t. Imagine you’re about to depart on a journey, you know almost nothing about where you’re going, what you’ll find there, or even how you’re going to get there. But the deep, thrilling prospect of the journey itself draws you forward. It is irresistible. I can’t wait to be in that forest, by the river, finding whatever I may find, and whatever may find me.
It might take a little time but never fear, you will be the first to know when it is ready for the reading.