Iona Winter

Rainbows are always a good omen to me. They conjure up visions of wee irish sprites and pots of gold AND they make me smile. Particularly when it’s been (pardon my language) a shitter of a week. I apologise in advance if this post is complete and utter balderdash. Geez I love this word…I wonder why people don’t use it these days. I think I might integrate it into my dialogue more often.

It’s the weekend down here in Aotearoa, which signals my time for (non-negotiable I tell myself) writing—unless it’s been a (aforementioned) shitter of a week and I am required to cram other things in—like tax returns (cue much groaning). 

I spoke with another writer recently, and we had a good old laugh about the creative process. We also laughed at how people expect us to pump out novels willy-nilly (when we’re still working on the first one) and how they “can’t understand why, and surely it’s not that hard is it, you’re just writing a book, anyone could do that…” I was relieved we could laugh, otherwise it might’ve been tears. Such is the creative life of extreme contrasts.

But I am not alone, I know musicians who struggle with the same thing. I can’t help but wonder if Beethoven was required to magic up new music at the ALARMING rate of knots we seem to expect these days. Was respect was given to his creative process? Probably not.

It’s not that easy being creative. I’m fortunate to have a day job to balance things out. Despite my fantasy to write full time and have no financial stress at all (haha, yes jokes all round there) I wish there was more honouring of those who choose this precarious path FULL TIME, and that our society respected creative people’s infinite value and wisdom.

IF I won a large sum of money, I would set up a fund, for creatives who are outside the mainstream—which equates to the majority if you look at it objectively. After sorting my own bills and helping those I love, ‘The Fund’ would be next on my agenda, and would most likely have a rainbow for the logo.

Life pushes and pulls us through (sometimes) treacherous waters, and it can be a challenge just to keep ourselves afloat. For me this equates to NAFF-ALL writing. It usually makes it impossible to go anywhere near the (metaphorical) page, and if I force myself I end up writing a garbled mess of ‘balderdash’. Afterwards I cringe at my disregard for trees and the waste of paper. But is anything ever a waste, really? Probably not. Okay, point taken.

Thankfully, the shitter of a week is almost at an end. I am thankful for the rainbow that appeared outside this morning, because I can smile…and now I’m off to find some other uses for the word ‘balderdash’.