On Writing.

Something’s been plaguing my mind recently, and I feel the need to unleash it on you, imaginary blog reader.

My future hides in the murkiest depths of my imagination, and even though I don’t like to fish around in there, whenever I do, the only thing I see is how much I want to write. I know I need to learn how to do it properly, and keep practicing. But the reason I don’t like to humour myself a ‘writer’ or ‘author’ in the future is because I understand how ridiculously difficult it is to get into as a profession, and I want to be realistic. So, naturally, I need a “something else”. That is, a job to work while still trying to barge blindly into the world of publishing.

My problem; what else?

As hard as I try, I can’t figure out anything else that I’m remotely good at, or as excited about doing. But from reading various articles on the topic, I’ve gathered that you need to move to London, climb through your kitchen window with a knife sharpener (and future editor), work at a horror-themed restaurant & find some nifty tearaway clothing for surreptitious use on your boss. At least, that’s what I think MJ was trying to get across. I don’t know, maybe I just need to work a secretarial-type job for a while, where I can go all secret agent & write covertly.

On a somewhat unrelated note, NANOWRIMO! The glorious festive season that we all know and love for its association with uncontrollable stress, inducing mental illness and social depravity is alarmingly near! I’m extremely excited to see how everyone in the NaNo-world will go this year, and now I have some IRL friends who’ll be struggling along with me for the month-long journey. But the 50 000 word mark just seems s’darn far away, and it’s not like I’m swimming in novelistic inspiration.

So, naturally, I’ve been brainstorming whenever I can. But don’t you hate it when you think of a brilliant concept, only to discover that it’s already in a published, New York Times best selling and critically acclaimed novel – having won several awards for literary brilliance? Happens far too often in my world. I know for a fact that this has happened at least twice, and I theorise that the authors have time machines, stealing my thoughts now and altering the space-time continuum by publishing them years earlier.

Oh well, I’m sure some creativity will slap me in the face, and if not, I’ll just be enveloped in a whirl of stress and vulnerability as I attempt to wing it. Honestly, where would we be without this wonder of combined human ability? It would be a scary world; a place where people speak to each other in a physical environment, and have sound psychological health. I shudder at the very thought.

Well, that’s all my musings on writing for today, farewell figments!

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