Complications

I’ve realised that, as a writer, I love to explore relationships. Romantic relationships. Whether it’s an old married couple who seem to have lost each other along the way in their relationship, or if it’s a young teenage couple, who have nothing better to do than wander the streets in the dark, alone with the stars and streetlamps for company.

Finding what fits and how things have become broken inside the delicate structure of a romantic relationship that doesn’t stand so rigid anymore is what fascinates me.

Suddenly living without my boyfriend as he’s gone off to university has sharpened my senses to real relationships, to people, and to how almost anything can hold potential for a new romance to blossom. Say I hit someone with my car or the postman accidentally delivers a parcel to the wrong address – this could equal romance if it were a fictional world. I’m trying to use this.

Anything can happen in fiction. But what’s probably more jolting is anything can happen in reality too. I want to stay with my boyfriend for as long as I can – forever, if I want to be that publically unashamed in admitting it – but I realise that if I’m not then things will be okay. Because music is here, and writing is here too.

I keep reminding myself that if things don’t turn out perfectly in life, then to remember what David Tennant’s doctor told Agatha Christie in Doctor Who; that living through pain is what makes her such a good writer. This is probably the only thing that’s acting as my safety blanket if things don’t turn out okay.

Writing about love, in all shapes and sizes, seems to be the only thing that matters right now.

I just love the way it feels.

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