I don’t have much sense of time, and very little of the scale of changes in my own life. Just occasionally something happens which shows me how profound changes are.
I have been invited to contribute a piece of writing to an internet site which I greatly respect, which is organised by people who have known my writing for many years, but not over the last year.
The last year, I now realise, has seen a revolution. I used to write a good deal of cold prose comment, and occasional stretches of fiction/imaginative writing. Now I seem to be writing mainly shortish fiction/imaginative pieces. I am not thinking in terms of argument, but in images and allusions. Illusions too maybe.
I went back and looked at the first pieces I wrote in the new style, and was flabbergasted at their clumsiness and lack of ‘charge’. I wrote them for Advent last year. I only persevered because a kind and supportive friend found something in them that I did not. I went on to write what (I think) are some things which were actually worth reading.
The new consignment will mean a return to cold prose. Will it mean crossing the same river again, or will I be able to find a new and better cold prose voice? Do I still have anything to say in cold prose? Interesting. Interesting, too, the huge distance I have covered in a year.