Dear all,
This is a quick post to say that the last
few days have been quite tough, but for good reasons. I have got to the point now
where I have a routine and although I am not fully committed to it, things can
slip by half an hour here and there; I am hoping it won’t be long before I am.
In short I am writing in the morning and writing in the afternoon, two separate
and allocated sessions. Sounds the most ludicrous of obvious statements but
there it is. I am still looking for distractions, and my mind clouds up a lot
but this is what it is all about. What I have been thinking of for so long,
just having the day to write. If and when I get past the self created
disruptions and manage to do two good (by which I mean actually write a lot of
words, not just look at the screen) sets of three hours every day then it will
prove to me that I can either create, or not.
That’s why it has
been quite emotional because I am scared to death that it will all come to
nothing! I will have used up my savings and wasted a year of my life. Now I’ll
stop there because of course I know deep down that this is going to be (and
already has been) an amazing experience in itself and nothing has been or will
be wasted, so okay, I was over-egging it a bit. However, I need to be honest,
the end result must show work, it is no good just getting a couple of thousand
words out, I need to really increase the output. There is no way around that, I
want to get a lot done. So if now the mechanism is in place and come December I
haven’t produced much work…well, it is a terrifying thought. I felt like
putting it down on paper, for the record, because whatever happens I want to
look back and remember these moments of panic and despair whilst in the middle
of having a bloody brilliant and fantastic time. It’s strange you know!
There was an
embarrassing moment the other day when I felt tears well up behind my eyes in
the local bar when going through some notes. I wasn’t feeling upset, it was the
opposite in fact, a sense of positivity with a surge in self-belief (not
alcohol inspired, promise!) I want things to work out so badly that the result
was I felt a little choked up but out of happiness if that makes sense. I also had a bad pang of
missing my friends and family, I had had a good day of writing and the urge to
go my local pub back home and socialize hit me quite hard but for any friends
reading this, it didn’t last long, I was back to watching Spanish football and
drinking Estrella before you could say, ‘pint of London Pride please landlord’
so don’t let it go to your heads ;)
The feeling that
I have got something in my life that I really I love, that really means
something sends a shiver of realization through me whereby I understand this
could well be the best moment in my entire writing life: the beginning. The
time when I have the draft of a story in my head and I am about to attack it
and see what comes out. It is such a great feeling. It feels good to be at the
start of something because you have belief and for the time being at least you
can push out the negative feelings. I am working for myself, not anyone else,
and that sense of freedom was and is overwhelming. Feeling fully accepting of
the scale of work involved is liberating too, I have gone past trying to think
who I want to write like or emulate or what material gains I would like to
achieve. It’s just a case of sitting down and writing for hours each day, and
that’s when the fear and panic sets in, you question whether you can really do this, for example imagine you say to yourself, ‘I want
to have the body of an athlete’…well get down the gym for six hours a day and
in time you’ll get there…how many people know they could stick to going to the
gym every day for six hours no matter how much you loved it and wanted the end
result…well, that’s what I need to do with writing, I’m happy to acknowledge it
but boy is it going to be tough. I want to write everything I have in my head
down now this very minute, while the passion for it is there, I want to get all
the ideas out of my brain and down onto paper in clear and concise prose so
that it won’t fester, ruin and rot away with time, but you can’t, you have to
be patient, methodical and work to a very long term plan.
So as I sat
there thinking about how my fate rests entirely on how lazy I am feeling each
day, I remember hoping that the moment of desire I felt at that second stayed
with me, I could almost see the potential as a physical object that I could
hold in my hands, the excitement is there, the sense of hard work is real, the
sense of purpose is real, it’s not something that will happen next year, or
once I get the next job, or I once I finish the next course, it is right here
with me now; I just hope that it doesn’t fade.
RGR
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