I am devouring a collection of magazine stories, hungry for the words and stories of others. It is a best of anthology, so I am subconsciously measuring the wit of my prose against theirs. Their words are tight and tart, confident and succinct. A valley separates us, but one that I think can be crossed in time.
Perhaps I needed the influx of thought. Penned up as I am in this comfortable cave, I’ve struggled to flow. This should have been the ideal environment to write, but reality has been different, attention divided like an apple pie, distractions shiny and numerous. The whole point of this exercise - to get better at writing quickly, has come in spurts of consciousness, but not as steadily as I had hoped. Maybe there is only so many tricks you can teach an old dog?
These are all excuses though. Right now I am of the mindset that anything not achieved is an excuse. I must push onward, to remove the obstructions between my mind and this page. There are a handful of vaguely developed characters that could use more meat on their bones, and a couple of potential storylines to weave between and among them.
No, writing 50,000 words this month is not my singular priority, nor is it my most important one. But come December I shall not be happy unless I know that I at least gave it a decent try…
Perhaps I needed the influx of thought. Penned up as I am in this comfortable cave, I’ve struggled to flow. This should have been the ideal environment to write, but reality has been different, attention divided like an apple pie, distractions shiny and numerous. The whole point of this exercise - to get better at writing quickly, has come in spurts of consciousness, but not as steadily as I had hoped. Maybe there is only so many tricks you can teach an old dog?
These are all excuses though. Right now I am of the mindset that anything not achieved is an excuse. I must push onward, to remove the obstructions between my mind and this page. There are a handful of vaguely developed characters that could use more meat on their bones, and a couple of potential storylines to weave between and among them.
No, writing 50,000 words this month is not my singular priority, nor is it my most important one. But come December I shall not be happy unless I know that I at least gave it a decent try…
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