I used to buy new pens. A new story demanded a new pen. What was stopping the easy flow of creativity and expression was the less than new writing implement in my hand, not my fervent and effective strategies of procrastination and avoidance.
And then it was notebooks. A fully formed novel would spill effortlessly onto the crisp white fields of a new notebook or pad of A4 far easier than that old, curled notebook with the shopping list at the front. That was what was stopping me. Not the TV, or the internet.
And then I moved from pen and ink to electronics, and suddenly I required a new flash storage device, a new software programme, because it wasn't the demands and stresses of work that were stemming my creativity, but the lack of space on an 8GB memory stick containing three ancient short stories and the aborted first chapters of two embryonic novel ideas...
In my first blog post, I promised that 2015 would be the year I completed my novel. And it patently wasn't. I have done some writing since then; I genuinely have, and I have pursued quite seriously opportunities to progress my writing, (more on that later) but I am nonetheless disappointed in myself for the lack of output I have produced, and though I can legitimately cite substantial sources of stress and the demands of my professional existence, I know in my heart of hearts that I could and should have done more.
And I nearly deleted my website just now, in order to start again. Because a fresh new website on a new platform would mean that I would actually write, right?
Wrong.
I have studied and latterly taught writing, and attempted to enthuse others with and about the written word for some time now, and recently attempted to further my own professional and personal development by returning to study once more. My attempt to do so was ultimately unsuccessful, and I won't pretend that it wasn't a blow, but it may yet prove a blessing - It has served to redouble my intent and effort; to write, to publish if I can, and to study writing wherever and whenever I am able to do so. It is what I have wanted to do for so long, and I must do it.
I will set no deadlines or expectations - I know to do so would be foolish, but the intent and the drive is there like never before.
And I have bought some new notebooks, so I must be serious, right?
And then it was notebooks. A fully formed novel would spill effortlessly onto the crisp white fields of a new notebook or pad of A4 far easier than that old, curled notebook with the shopping list at the front. That was what was stopping me. Not the TV, or the internet.
And then I moved from pen and ink to electronics, and suddenly I required a new flash storage device, a new software programme, because it wasn't the demands and stresses of work that were stemming my creativity, but the lack of space on an 8GB memory stick containing three ancient short stories and the aborted first chapters of two embryonic novel ideas...
In my first blog post, I promised that 2015 would be the year I completed my novel. And it patently wasn't. I have done some writing since then; I genuinely have, and I have pursued quite seriously opportunities to progress my writing, (more on that later) but I am nonetheless disappointed in myself for the lack of output I have produced, and though I can legitimately cite substantial sources of stress and the demands of my professional existence, I know in my heart of hearts that I could and should have done more.
And I nearly deleted my website just now, in order to start again. Because a fresh new website on a new platform would mean that I would actually write, right?
Wrong.
I have studied and latterly taught writing, and attempted to enthuse others with and about the written word for some time now, and recently attempted to further my own professional and personal development by returning to study once more. My attempt to do so was ultimately unsuccessful, and I won't pretend that it wasn't a blow, but it may yet prove a blessing - It has served to redouble my intent and effort; to write, to publish if I can, and to study writing wherever and whenever I am able to do so. It is what I have wanted to do for so long, and I must do it.
I will set no deadlines or expectations - I know to do so would be foolish, but the intent and the drive is there like never before.
And I have bought some new notebooks, so I must be serious, right?