Painting and starting but not finishing books are my excuses. I'm not a very good artist although I love it but I have learned a lot through my local art group.
I was very unsure which of my unfinished pieces of writing to go back to. I'd forgotten some of the characters and the plots. The good news, though, is that when I read them again, I found that they were not as bad as I thought they would be. I picked the one which had a largest word count and got going again. Hard to force myself into a routine, but it gets easier if you persevere. I am researching again, writing again, editing, trying to integrate some of my previous writing into the history of the times.I am enjoying writing books again but the process has thrown up gaps in my knowledge which are rarely covered in history books.
I wish I had questioned my grandfather more about when he was growing up (he was born in 1895 in Liverpool). He told me lots of things and showed me where places had been (notably the slave pens and the kitchens of the Northern Hotel). He told me about having his pocket and wallet cut out of his coat with a knife when he was in the Majestic cinema on London Road. He told me about being near the docks and singing 'Bold Cock Robin' with an Irish crowd, when he should have been singing 'Bold Robert Emmet'. He wondered why the men were looking at him oddly and he was lucky to escape.
But he did not tell me what happened on the night the British ultimatum expired in 1914 and why he joined the Marines, not the Navy. Liverpool has always been a Navy town, both Royal Navy and Merchant Navy. He was discharged for sleepwalking - what stress caused him to sleepwalk and how often did he do it? A sleepwalking marine would be a menace of course. Incidentally he passed this trait on and my baby granddaughter is the fifth generation to frighten her relatives to death! I wish I had known all the questions to ask him before it was too late.