So part of the move here to this western edge of Ireland was so I could walk more. It’s not like I’m an insane walker but – as I’m sure all the writers here will agree – sitting down for hours writing is not a great way for your body to spend its time.
And it’s not brilliant for the head either.
I need a neurologist here. Help me out. Is there a reason why not writing is such a useful part of the writing process? I’ve found out, time after time, that leaving the keyboard and doing something where the brain works in different ways is great when you’re writing, because when you sit back down again, you always see the book in a slightly different way. That conversation you were writing that was lumpy and awkward suddenly finds a new flow. That background character steps forward and says something invaluable. And so on.
Anyone else find this?
Anyway. This is yesterday’s walk, up the side of Seefin, which I can see from my window. There are several Seefin’s in Ireland, literally the Seat of Fionn – the legendary leader and poet Fionn mac Cumhaill.
You trip over legends around here. From Seefin you look down at Rossbeigh Strand, which is where Oisin and Niamh rode their horses to the land of Sir Na nÓg when Niamh’s father was displeased with her choice of lover.
So you’re kind of walking into stories wherever you go here anyway. Here’s a stream I crossed on yesterday’s walk: