I find writing hard. I want to write and it’s been a goal, a dream and a practice for years. I do it every day in some way or other. I have shelves filled with completed notebooks and yet, after nearly 60 years of writing, I find it hard to write my first novel.
I started the novel in 2012 and so far, two of the key ideas have appeared elsewhere. Most days I start with the intent of getting on with it, but there is always a reason to delay! Sometimes I find cleaning toilets more alluring than sitting down at my computer to write.
Perhaps I need to give myself some tough love and ask questions like:
‘What the fuck is going on Rita?’
‘Why are you saying its important but putting everything else in front?’
‘Why not just give up the idea or the dream of one day completing a manuscript?’
When I reflect on my goals for the day, week, year or decade I ponder a slightly different question: ‘Isn’t it time to give myself headspace to do something else?’ On occasion, I give myself a break from writing and permission to let it go, but the idea is never quite dead.
I suspect the only way I will kill the thought is by writing the manuscript, presenting it to someone and then reading it myself. If I can bear to read it, then the time was worth it. If not, it may be time to try something else.
So, back to the keyboard for a few hours more scribbling….