I started this blog to flex my writing muscles in a place not too intimidating in terms of scale; to enable me to continue with my book more confidently and help me attain a very distant long term goal. And, of course, what has happened is, in only a couple of months, blogging has become an end in itself, and the novel put to one side.
The quick satisfaction of a posting published is so much easier to obtain than the rewards of finishing a novel, that’s my problem…self discipline…as usual.
The endless variety of high quality blogs, the political, the intellectual, the literary, the witty, all conspire to erode my confidence in my own voice, and provide me with an excuse for prevaricating.
But, today being the firstdayoftherestofmylife, I plunged myself back in and tried to pick up the remnants of my plot and understand why I had become blocked. After all, it is my voice, and I can’t speak with anyone else’s.
And imagine…it is all down to sex. I have based my leading character so closely on myself and my experiences that when she finds herself in a situation where she may be about to have a sexual encounter my pen freezes in guilty married panic.
So I will kill two birds with one stone.
First bird… I will use this post to put my blog in it’s place and remind it that it is not top dog, other things are more important.
Second bird…I am not Rosie. I am not Rosie. I am not Rosie, and she will have sex or not depending on whether the author thinks she should to advance the plot.
Third bird…I will obtain the quick satisfaction of publishing this post.
Fourth bird…I will demonstrate self discipline and stop before this becomes a flock
2 days ago