Rough seas before calm

The coast outside PortPatrick Harbour

The other day we explored further west and we ventured into the prevailing wind to reach the agitated seaside. These days I sometimes wonder if I’m not pushing against the wind only to reach a seascape in turmoil.

The problem with writing competitions, though I’ve related how I’ve got several outstanding submissions, is that like the rolling waves, all the unsuccessful submissions are subsumed beneath the winning entries, lost. Feedback is usually only received in writing groups, unless you pay for the privilege with some of the competitions’ judging panels. So it can feel like the sea has just come in and covered everything and you’re no further ahead than you were before you started.

As I’ve tried to admonish myself, that’s not true; something produced, however ephemeral, is something done. And sometimes, sometimes a piece may bob up to the surface, a faltering buoy carried along on tumultuous waters.

It might just be a small comment, a kind of shared experience that a single reader will relate, that makes the writing effort feel worthwhile. Or, conversely, a serendipitous something may materialise out of the prevailing wind and you feel a moment of delight. My beloved spotted the cloud formation above PortPatrick Harbour, suggested that the configuration might make a dramatic photo, and like the solace to seafarers provided by the RNLI lifeboat anchored in the island’s lee, the shot contributed to a change in mood. A gentle calm.

4 responses to “Rough seas before calm”

  1. Great photo Pete saw you in the chemist in Allendale yesterday; that was a surprise


  2. Beautiful sky, beautiful photo.

    Good luck and a fair wind with your writing. Judgment such a personal thing – ask Kafka and Keats!


  3. Larry,  I don’t have any wisdom to offer an author as feedback. Your beautiful picture of a churning sea  did cause me to think how the ocean acts like a giant tumbler which gladly accepts rough rocks, branches of trees & even broken glass.  Eventually the sea let’s go of some of the material. When my daughters were young they would gather smooth pebbles &, polished glass. I suppose early risers found the driftwood. I told the girls that those beautiful polished pebbles were “worry stones”. I demonstrated how nice it felt turning them over in my hand. Thinking back I guess you could say that the sea had already worried over them.


  4. Thank you to each of you for your comments! Although I could definitely use the smooth features of those worry stones, Henry, I’m hoping to jump into some small bits of creativity today. Thanks for the fair wind wish, Fiona — we shall see what transpires through my fingers :). Aye Annie, it was lovely to chat with Peter at the chemist, and good luck to you both as you consider how best to live your own later lives.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: