Confession time.
I have barely written any fiction for well over six months. And I've been berating myself for this.
I want to write a book - I've always wanted to write a book.
And the last six months have been hard - torturous in some ways, what with work being as it was - 6 days a week, sixty hours a week - there was no time.
Well, I think I'm ready to get started again.
I know, some of you would say that this blog is fiction. I'm rather proud of myself that I get a post out every day. I know it's crap. It's now a fully entrenched part of my process. My fingers turn over every day. I know it's crap. But I'm writing.
Now, now that I have a job which takes up normal hours and isn't currenly endentured with massive egos and mega-stress, means I have some time, and emotional capacity to actually write something of note.
For the last eons, I've been berating myself for getting nothing published. I've not had a short story published in years. I haven't written a short story in years.
Yet on the good side of things, I feel like I'm about to return. With a vengeance.
I've got Catherine Deveny's voice running through my head. Get in a daily practice. Write for 10/15/20 minutes a day on your project. Write in the gaps. If you're not pissing get off the pot... all of her wonderful arse-kicking tid bits.
My sparkly pink gumboots (which used to belong to Dev, now mine) and the big scarf that I just finished knitting - these will make up my writing garb. My alarm is set for 6.50. I plan to write between 7.15 and 7.30 am each day.
Writing is like a muscles - if you don't exercise them, they wither. (Another Dev-ism - also a reason I write this blog daily - good my my self-worth, even if it is crap).
It's time. It's time I became a completer, a novelist, not just a writer.
It's time.
Today's song:
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