Tonight there are no distractions. TV is off, household members are either working or sleeping. Even the whippet is curled up in a ball on the couch. Perfect conditions for writing. So here I am, distractible, irritable, tired, and headachy.
This is one of the most annoying parts of being a writer. Inspiration and enthusiasm hits you at inconvenient times and when you have a big wide yawning chasm of time available, you find your head is made of wood and the juices flow about as freely as a glacier.
It worries me when I’ve committed to a whole week dedicated to nothing but writing. I’m not a naturally disciplined person. I don’t think many writers are. Not ones anybody likes.
On the up side. 20,000 words have morphed into 30,000. Oh alright 29.098, but that’s close enough.
4 Comments
The Books
I too have this problem. On my three days available occasionally of a week, I have time to write more of my novel – but as today, I find myself dreading writing, and finding it interminably boring. On other days I am flat chat and inspiration comes and I can’t stop what flows out. How to get the discipline to make the days when it is not flowing to just sit and write?
I am reading A Moveable Feast by Hemingway at the moment and I am finding it very motivating. He has quit his journalism job and is living in Paris and he writes everyday. (you probably already know all of this) I love how he writes every day until he knows what is going to happen next and then he leaves it until the next day. In this book he says he doesn’t even talk about his work during that evening, because he wants to leave it for his private work on the page.
Wow. He is inspiring me, but still…
Given that I created a character called “Hemmingway” it may surprise you to know that I am reasonably unfamiliar with pretty much all of Hemingway’s oeuvre. I do however ascribe to the idea that you should finish a day’s work knowing exactly what the next bit is going to be. The end of my working manuscripts are filled with notes and bizarro shorthand to myself.
For what it’s worth I’ve just finished “Theft” by one of my heroes, Peter Carey. I may even do the next post about it.
I have read that book by Peter Carey and he is definitely my hero. I was so stoked when somehow I got to interview him when I was at university and basically asked him a whole lot of questions I personally wanted to know.
It was cool.
No fair! Not only am I supremely jealous, but that message stopped me mid fictional sentence.
Now I feel like a coffee.
Now I will do the next post about Peter Carey since I have a pretty hilarious anecdote about the Queensland Premier’s Awards in 2000 (maybe it was 2001) where he won best book for True History of the Kelly Gang.
Hold that thought. Now I’m really fanging for a cuppa.