Busy Doing Nothing...

 ...as Bing Crosby used to sing. To those young ones who have no idea who Bing Crosby is, Google it, I can't be bothered to explain.

So yes, I'm busy, organising, doing stuff, NOT WRITING, entering photography competitions, starting poetry books, NOT WRITING, being an editor on Makarelle, NOT WRITING.

It seems I have found new and improved ways to procrastinate. I am productive, and what I am doing isn't bad, it's certainly not nothing...but it's not working on my novel, it's not writing. Darn it!

As I know from having kids, time is fleeting and we have a blink of time on this earth. If I want to leave any kind of small dent I need to get a wiggle on before my body or my eyes (most likely my eyes, my sight is deteriorating faster than I would like, and according to my optician, 'unusually fast for someone of my age' - gosh, thanks) give up on me.

You could argue that this is writing. It is indeed writing, words are coming from my brain to my fingers to the keyboard to the laptop to here. But this is just me musing and muddling my way through things as I mull and cogitate and brew. 

The trouble is, I have about five novels I am more or less ready to either write or edit. One is complete and just needs a firm and thorough editing - but I need a break from it. The others either have beginnings, or have stuff happening in my late night scribbles where I put ideas together, draw flow diagrams and think about character traits. 

These 'scribbles' are the kind of notes that, should I drop dead tomorrow, would be hieroglyphics to anyone else. I mean, I write sideways, backwards, upside down and scribble terrible pictures. They look like the doodles of a mad woman - but I know what they mean. So, no dropping dead and instead WRITING. 

My Hieroglyphics

I should just write, get my head down, ignore everything else and JUST WRITE. 

I love writing, it is my favourite thing to do, but somehow I have put all this pressure on myself. I have no idea why and now I dither, I faff and do anything but which is really annoying. Then I get cross with myself, which is not productive. I give great advice to people to help them write and yet, when it comes to myself, I seem completely incapable of following my own advice.  


OK, I feel a bit better now. Thanks for listening. Better go and do some writing - Good chat, bit embarrassed, got a bit emosh - soz.


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