The most exhausting aspect of writing is how much thinking it involves. Recently I’ve been working on a second draft of my novel Bloodied Wings, trying to resolve some structural problems and improve the plot as well as working generally on character and prose. It’s taken me possibly longer than any other book, due to a period of writer’s block in the middle and the constraints of university on my time: I started the draft on the first of November,…
I am not good at Christmas. I am not good at Christmas because it always catches me off-guard, and before I know it, it’s the 23rd of December and I haven’t yet done any shopping for presents. I am not good at it because surprises make me anxious, and so does not having presents for those who got one for me, and so does unfamiliar food. I am not good at it because every year something seems to go wrong…
Today, I decided to go back to my current WIP, Bloodied Wings. Not because I’ve forgotten why I put it aside. I haven’t. In part, I decided to go back to it because I figured out an endgame that reconciles my protagonist with my ideological beliefs. In part, I decided to go back to it because I felt like my characters were hammering on the inside of my skull trying to persuade me to write them again. And yet –…
I always forget how many of the blogs I read are American until it reaches this time of year and every single post in my inbox starts with “this Thanksgiving weekend, I’m grateful for…“. Mind you, the same thing happens around Hallowe’en. Blogs are predictable as winter starts approaching: spooky posts, grateful posts, festive posts, resolution posts. That was an observation completely unrelated to this post, by the way. — I’ve always taken my writing seriously; in many ways, far…
I remember reading an interview with Carol Ann Duffy in school last year where she said, “Sometimes when you write a poem, you don’t know if you’re ever going to write one again.” And I thought, “That’s ridiculous. I write poems practically every day.” My friends, I am a fool. I don’t believe in writer’s block. Okay, so some days it feels like pulling teeth, but I can still write. It might be rubbish, but if it’s a first draft,…
My brain is my hard drive, and right now it’s a bit dead. Maybe it’s too full. I should clear some stuff out. Or maybe the fan got blocked and it overheated and melted. I’ve seen that happen before. Perhaps I need new virus protection. Visiting Tumblr is probably filling my head with all kind of bugs, corrupting it. Maybe I should just avoid the internet until I’ve strengthened the firewall. Or perhaps I’m fragmented. I should power down for…
So I don’t even know what day of the week I blog any more. Wasn’t it meant to be Thursdays and Sundays? I can’t remember. But today’s Sunday – Easter, in fact! Hooray! – so if it was, there we go. If it wasn’t, bite me. You get a blog post. (Which reminds me, I need to make another video … ha ha). So. Before I abuse the rules of parenthesis any more, I’m going to move on. I’m going…
It’s a strange sort of writer’s block when When little time is to be had The words come freely and I can write And poems are no trouble. But stories, alas, do not work Inconsequential things succeed And more important ones do not Though I strive and struggle. It’s a strange sort of writer’s block And it’s driving me up the flipping wall!