And don’t expect a lot of length or sponteneity in this post – whoever lives behind this screen ate one of my posts. You’ll just have to take my word for how amazingly brilliant what I wrote was. All I remember of it was one word: “merlotdramatic”, which refers to the my sudden onsets of alcohol-fueled determination that everyone really wants to hear my definitive opinion on [insert topic here].
So – older and wiser, and somewhat confused as to what I was actually writing about – what’s been going on?
Firstly – I have written a short story. It’s not glittering prose. But it was begun, it was finished, and it was sent off, and as we speak, it is being critiqued by some of my keener fellow writers. In revenge, I am critiquing them. If part of being a writer is that ability to actually do the task, then to that extent it’s a success.
Secondly – other things have slowed down a tad. The novel – it’s going maybe less well. It is going more slowly than I had hoped. I spent a few hours flapping and mewling to my wife about how difficult it was to find the time to write, and how nobody had ever had it as bad as me. Eventually I worked out a few things.
Firstly – I’m male, I speak the dominant language on the planet, I have all my limbs – I’m probably among the most fortunate people one percent of the planet.
Second - nobody’s holding a gun to my head. The things that get in the way of my writing – I chose them. God did not descend from on high and say “Thou must BLAH”. In the end I’m freee to write instead of BLAH, or and I’m free to BLAH instead of write, and I’m free to try and arrange my time so I can do a bit of BLAH and a bit of writing – and if I want I’m free to do neither of them and just piss and moan about how somehow things just haven’t worked out for me and how come I never got a chance in life?
See, somewhere in the back of my head is the lurking fear that one day I’ll look back on days like today and think “I remember- I used to think I could write a book”.
Anyway – I have an abundance of spurs. Terror. Anger. Envy. Pride. All the good things. I have a sleeping beauty kind of story, a novel, a haunted room horror story that came to me in a dream, and I have just had one of my characters arrested.
I will go now and get on with it.
Thanks for listening,