The Texture of Snow
Photo credit: Ben Linge
‘What if nothing came, what if no words appeared on the page, what if I couldn’t conjure up a sense of place?’
Hannah Persaud, our writer in residence for February, writes about the experience of being a locked-down digital resident.
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As a writer in residence at Lake 32, the lure of the lake was exciting. I imagined long days of listening to bird calls, flashes of inspiration nudging me through the steam of my hot chocolate. Having long been a fan of wild swimming, I resolved to commit more fully. I bought a wetsuit, bootees, a balaclava - it felt like the start of something.
Then the third lockdown happened. My first piece of writing for the residency would need to be written from the memory of a fleeting visit to Lake 32 to meet other writers back in December, a visit that I assumed would be the first of many. There would be no lightning bolt of inspiration as my body recoiled from the freezing water, no gradual creeping awareness of what Lake 32 means to me as a writer. Inspiration frozen, I worried. What if nothing came, what if no words appeared on the page, what if I couldn’t conjure up a sense of place?
My wetsuit is still curled in a ball in storage, my dryrobe hangs unworn – I don’t even know where my swimming costumes are. But as I forced myself to write something, anything, a story emerged on the page, and I was reminded of the magic of writing. Imagination doesn’t stop working when gates are locked and we are told to stay at home, the only authorisation needed is permission to self to write. I’ll remember that next time.
To read Hannah’s story in full, click here. Or, you can read it in instalments:
