No writing for me this weekend I'm afraid, and I'm definitely not at the desired 25,000. But let's not panic! I'm sure that by tomorrow afternoon, the words will flow readily on all manner of fascinating subjects, and I will smugly make up for lost ground.
I'm going to drink coffee until I can't physically close my eyes.
Irritatingly, I'm still wrestling with my inner editor, cautiously typing with the overhanging fear of writing complete balls. It's this grow-up, get a mortgage, commuting on the train rubbish that's done it. I couldn't be further from my Creative Writing self at University, when we were up at 3am performing prose, frantically scrawling, tracking down our ever elusive voices. It gets harder to convince yourself that you weren't just some teenage whinger, enchanted by their own diary. And I know that I won't remember how to write again, in that proper, 'oh the hell with it' way, until I stop pinning it up as an escape from the office, and start writing for writing's sake like before. Any tips?
I guess that's the beauty of Nano; a timely reminder to regress. To go back to being that kid screaming in a supermarket, or having a unselfconscious nose pick at school. To stop insisting that everything has to be perfect and effiicient, and believing that it's worthless unless showered with monetary praise. Rewind.
No comments:
Post a Comment