I’m not sure exactly why I stopped writing. Was it the tug of self-employment, or the pull of two school-aged children that nudged me off course? What role can be assigned to the slipping and sliding of thoughts that no longer ferment and solidify with crystal clearness as they once did? To the feeling that the exact word, phrase, sentence is waiting, poised at the top of a sand dune, if only I could surmount the ever-sliding sand to retrieve it? Is it age that has softened the edges of my thoughts? Or is it the mental load – that constant banging drum of responsibility – that deadens my brain for all higher reflections? Am I bombarding my mind with more than it can process? Gorging on work, books, podcasts, news, magazines, taking in more than I can digest? When did I last sit in silence? Rest with my thoughts? When did I last allow myself to be unproductive?

I came back to my blog today. I want to write again. To reflect, to think, to process. To mull on an idea. To obsess. To critique. To dissect. To read or listen once, twice, three times, and digest rather than devour and gag on – or become gagged by – an excess of sensory input.

This week I listened to an interview with David Epstein about his latest book, Inside the Box: How Constraints Make Us Better. Epstein posits the idea that boundaries are critical in enabling creativity and innovation; that defined parameters produce better work. Rather than stifling innovation, ‘the box’ provides the structure we need to avoid decision paralysis. Epstein champions the idea of self-imposed limitations – even to the extent of curbing his own freedom as a writer to fall in step with the daily rhythms of the wider world. Perhaps the box is what I need right now. Perhaps it’s the wrong time for a longer work, but within the constraints of 300, 400, 500 words I can awaken, stretch and explore once again the corners of my mind.