With only a few short days left until I load up the dog and start the 2500km drive north, I’ve come to realise that leaving my home city is a gift. I visit my regular haunts with a sort of fond regret, thinking, ‘This is the last time I will visit this place, see this person, eat this food…’
It has made me notice the cobweb on the window of my favourite café, the laugh of the cashier at the local supermarket and the smell of salt water rolling off the bay. It’s showing up in my writing, too, with my characters interacting more thoroughly with their surroundings. I’m concentrating on minute, sensory details, and so the scenes are better because of it.
Our everyday activities provide rich fodder for our writing. Although it took my leaving to appreciate this, I’m thankful for the reminder.