I was hoping to finish the current draft of my new short story before Christmas. But then I got flu, neatly handed to me by my Real World job manager, who coughed and sneezed all over me until I too ended up with the skyrocketing temperature, the lost voice and the feelings of death.
Today is the first time I've made an attempt to write anything. I'd pretty much given up on the goal of finishing the story on time (well, this draft anyway - it still needs work). After all, it's not like I have any kind of deadline. It was just a personal thing.
When I started off this morning, I thought I'd forgotten how to write. Then I had another mince pie (very good for you when you're ill - full of fruit and stuff) and perked up. I now KNOW I will be able to finish this draft tomorrow, Christmas Eve.
It's just a little thing. But it's the little things that keep you going. This story has been immensely difficult. To be honest, though, I can't remember a time when writing was easy. Perhaps it's always this way. The stories are hard to write. But every moment agonising over them is worth it.
Good for the Christmas spirit.
Today is the first time I've made an attempt to write anything. I'd pretty much given up on the goal of finishing the story on time (well, this draft anyway - it still needs work). After all, it's not like I have any kind of deadline. It was just a personal thing.
When I started off this morning, I thought I'd forgotten how to write. Then I had another mince pie (very good for you when you're ill - full of fruit and stuff) and perked up. I now KNOW I will be able to finish this draft tomorrow, Christmas Eve.
It's just a little thing. But it's the little things that keep you going. This story has been immensely difficult. To be honest, though, I can't remember a time when writing was easy. Perhaps it's always this way. The stories are hard to write. But every moment agonising over them is worth it.
Good for the Christmas spirit.
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