A for Affort

Because that’s how English works.

I wrote stuff! I actually made myself write, and it worked! It always works! Every time I have done it it has worked and I have felt better! It is a reliable and predictable pattern that I can use to my advantage! When will I learn!

I didn’t even finish the chapter like I said I would, but it doesn’t matter, because I got writing done and put down my word-count for the day and it felt good. Just gotta, y’know, keep doing it, but how hard could that be?

I don’t think I’m going to finish The God of Small Things, not this time around anyway. It’s reminding me of Bitten‘s jarring info-dumps that break up the action at really unwelcome moments; this book does have an arc that one could identify as the “plot”, but it basically only exists as a conveyor belt that takes you, the reader, from character to character, and upon arriving at each character you get their entire backstory up to that point. And look, I get it, it’s meant to be like that, it’s meant to be about observation and character quirks and little vignettes and anecdotes rather than a linear plot. I get it. I just don’t like it. It feels like bad writing that’s been dressed up and packaged as literary style, and that may just be due to my recent reading material influencing my view, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to read any more of this book. Not right now. One day I do want to read it, just because I admire the author for things she’s said about social justice and the prose is really good and because it’s One Of Those Books You Need To Read. But it is not this day. On this day I write, and also read something else.

It’s funny; recently I keep getting these little bursts of motivation that I then allow to fade away unused, but then a rather short time later get all motivated again. It’s started coming more easily to me, this whole Getting Inspired thing, and that’s a very exciting development. I might even go back to the Nanowrimo project I gave up on. It came to me at a time when I was inspired but not motivated, and now that it seems I can pretty much create my own motivation at will – well, why not? I like the idea, I like the characters, and I think it’s a risk because there are so many moving pieces that could fall flat, and I’m all about risk-taking now apparently …

Whatever it is that I decide to write, I’ve gotta do other stuff as well. I’m going to at least act as though I’ve learnt my lesson about trying to make my writing fill in for all the other things I want to do but won’t let myself try. And at the same time, I’ll write the things I actually want to write, however bad or incomplete they may be right now.

After I get some sleep. I’m gonna need to start waking up really early for the next four weeks when uni starts, as every Friday morning I’ll have a six-hour workshop to attend. Fun times.

Why am I still at university again?

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