Five years ago, I left the mid-lockdown drought of Dublin to set up on the shores of west Mayo to get my writing project underway. I am now once again escaping urbanity – this time London – to plop myself down in the hills of north Wicklow.

For a little context, my wife, Cristín, and myself bought a two-by-two cottage a stone’s throw away from the Avonmore River, one hour from Dublin and in a perfect state of disrepair – a delightful canvas for the ideas that we’ve accumulated over the years while dreaming of our first home. And we are approaching it with cautious but determined optimism.

‘Moving back’: this is a term I’ve dreaded for donkeys due to the associations with giving up it implicitly bears. But this is more than simply ‘moving back’; it is ‘moving back to go forward’, that is, returning to a place of familiarity with the intention to build on your journey, taking your cumulative experiences with you. In doing so, I hope to reset my pace of life and eliminate the distractions that have accrued slowly over the years, mainly to achieve the one thing I value above all others: focus — that creative juice that makes my writing go smooth as butter.

In my view, few things compare with the meditative quietude of the rural surroundings. In the coming weeks, I aim to plan out my next writing projects, which include a smattering of short stories, a dozen or two reflective essays, and — get ready for it — another novel.

Whether or not each of these will become a publishable work depends on each idea’s ability to grow, gain impetus, and blossom. It is only by spending time on each one that I can enable this to happen, sans the distraction of gadgets, smartphones, and car-rammed roads.  

Given the scale of the renovation we’re about to undertake, this will take some time. But I am convinced I have orchestrated a sound plan, and am excited about what will surely follow.