You never really know how long you will grieve until one day you realize the grief is gone.

I haven’t written as much as I should not because there are no words. My uncle’s sudden death from CoVid threw me off. I had a lot planned – from writing a chapter a day to preparing my marketing plan to promote my books – I suddenly found it difficult to return to the swing of things. Procrastination became my best friend, mental and emotional exhaustion my constant companion.

Until I decided that nothing was going to happen to my writing if I didn’t step up to bat.

So here I am, slowly getting back to writing, getting out of my own self-imposed lockdown. And in those moments when writing becomes difficult and personal circumstances become like the movie ‘Insidious’, I’ve found a way to break free by writing poems.

I did this one yesterday in less than half an hour. God! if only my writing mojo inspired me this much, I’d have finished the first draft of my novel already!

Anyway, here goes…


Published by Isobelle Cate

Isobelle Cate is a woman who wears different masks. Mother-writer, wife-professional, scholar-novelist. Currently living in Manchester, she has been drawn to the little known, the secret stories, about the people and the nations: the English, the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, and those who are now part of these nations whatever their origins. Her vision and passion are fuelled by her interest and background in history and paradoxically, shaped by growing up in a clan steeped in lore, loyalty, and legend. Isobelle is intrigued by forces that simmer beneath the surface of these cultures, the hidden passions, unsaid desires, and yearnings unfulfilled.

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