Based upon the advice of yesterday, learning that the internet can very much be a distraction from writing, I have discovered a simple ruse to enable me to write, and enjoy the wisdom of my peers: I’m not allowed to check for updates on my favourite blogs until I’ve written something! It’a pathetically straightforward, and it works. Yesterday, after my online detour, I wrote five hundred words. Today, I did the same – only I accomplished it before I allowed myself the reward of finding out what was going on in the world of my favoured writers.

I’m beginning to notice a pattern. It’s not really all that regular, nor can I anticipate it, but every so often I struggle to write, admonish myself for not doing so and lose faith in my ability to prioritise it. The difference is, now that I have this blog, I feel a responsibility to get back on track much quicker than I ever did previously. In the past, the recurrence of this slump would result in my putting down my metaphorical pen for months at a time, causing me misery until I worked out that what I was missing was the act of writing itself.

I LOVE writing. Sometimes I worry that I won’t be able to stop. Most of the time I don’t think my writing really makes any cohesive sense: I narrate paragraphs of epic stories that live only in my imagination, note down random ideas that originate from a dream and scribble great swathes of character traits on a whim. I have lost days trying to find the right words to say what I mean – but I revel in it.

Then, of course, something inteferes, or life seems to take over for a while and I lose my place. I try other creative methods like artwork and scrapbooking and card-making. Yet I always return to writing, realising too late that it forms a part of my soul. And, sometimes I forget – even still – that this is what gets me fired up, that ignites my passion and gets me giddy with excitement.

It isn’t all the time, as I’ve said, because occasionally I wander from it and become distracted because it isn’t going so well. Yet this blog has managed to keep me on track so far, simply because I experience an obligation to keep it alive: even if no-one is reading on the other side. It is a physical thing out there in the world for others to see, and I am responsible for it. I’ve written more in the last three months than I have in most years of my life, and I’m proud of that. What’s really wonderful is that I’m able to record this progress: so that when I stumble again I might be able to return here and remind myself that I can do it, that I have done it and that I will continue to be able to do it for as long as I like.



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