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 Well, not so much fun and leisure as...get some damn writing done, you fool! |
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A while ago, I attended a writers' workshop and the lady who hosted it told us all to go away with this bit of advice - to write for just ten minutes a day. I was determined to go ahead with it and I did...for two days. So today I remembered that I'd resolved to do so and I whipped out my journal and wrote for fifteen minutes. I'm typing out pretty much the same thing that I wrote earlier, with some differences. I find I can go a lot more in-depth when I'm typing than when I'm writing by hand. Writing by hand is such a chore! I've struggled with loneliness a lot throughout my twenty-nine years. I struggled with it when I was the only one home with my mum when I was a teen and everybody else had other places to be. I struggled with it after marriage and when we moved into our own house for the first time. I struggled with it after my son was born and I felt torn between pursuing my writing and being a good mum, because my culture seems to indicate that a woman has absolutely no chance of living her own life - or at least, she has no chance of attaining any goals she hasn't already attained - once she has children. I feel it occasionally still, even though I get so little time to myself nowadays that any alone time is simply awesome. I've tried to come to terms with the idea that being alone isn't a bad thing - and a lot of the time, it isn't. My friends don't live nearby so I don't get to see them often, and even when I do, I feel like there isn't much depth to our conversations. I'm surrounded by people who do not think like me, who do not share any of my interests and hobbies. I feel like I've become desensitised to isolation. Loneliness is my preferred way to be. I walked into my college cafeteria at lunch today and it was the usual hubbub of activity. Youngsters walking around, chatting animatedly, shouting across the room, laughing, eating, socialising. I could recall how that clamour wouldn't have bothered me ten-twelve years ago, when I would have been one of the youngsters talking excitedly with her friends. But, as this moment, I just found an out-of-the-way little table and sat down. I watched the crowds for a while, wondering why it was only at moments like these that the sense of isolation became so strong. In the middle of a crowd, I feel most alone. |
| 05:48 I spoke to the CEO of the charity I work for yesterday and, although I have seen him numerous times at nationwide meet-ups, it's always a bit nerve-wracking to speak to one of the people higher up. Cuz I'm a nobody and the guy is clearly somebody. But he was nice, bless him. He asked what I do and I said I'm a writer, with this feeling of shame prickling in my gut. I always say I'm a writer when someone asks what I do but clearly they mean what's my occupation but I have nothing to say to that. I guess I could say I'm a student. But anyway, yes, this guy thought I was an actual writer and asked me what I write, like journals or blogs, and I felt compelled to say "ah, no, I'm writing a novel but I'm not published yet". Awkward! Anyway, I did learn that one of the people I gave my story to last year is in fact reading it! Yay! And apparently, "It's a proper novel, with a plot and everything!"  Bless the lady, she's nice. I'd come to accept that nobody would read the story because they didn't have the time so this was good news. Anyway, onto the subject of this entry. When I first joined WDC in March, I made up a poem sort of on the spot just so I could go from being a registered user to a registered author. I didn't think much of it - in fact, after writing, I promptly forgot what I wrote. The subject matter was my reason for joining WDC - my longing as a writer to be around other writers. But this little poem surprised the hell out of me. It got several positive reviews and then got even more recognition. This itty bitty poem I forgot the words to has continually surprised me. And I'm coming to hate it. See, there are many other items in my port which I spent a great of time and effort on, but those get nowhere near the same level of attention/feedback. I feel sorry for them! I guess it's the subject matter which appeals to other writers - maybe people can relate. Whatever it is, I know I should be thankful - and I am! - but I don't consider this one poem to show who I am as a writer, even though it is about me. I tell people right away that I'm a fantasy writer and this poem is not in that genre or even allude to that genre. I'll stop ranting now. 06:04 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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