Free Writing

It's a bit like free running but better because you don't have to physically hurl yourself over obstacles. Just mentally so you can repress.  It was also the exercise for this evening's writing workshop.   We had five minutes to just write with no thought or plan and to just stop when we ran out of words or we hit time.  I have since realised that free writing is how I do all my wordsmithing and is exactly how I wrote my novel. Yes, I really did have no idea what was going to happen.  Seeing as I have been doing some of the best procrastination of my life lately, I thought I would use tonight's free writing as my blog post and then feel inordinately pleased with myself for having blogged and written and attended a semi-social gathering with other, real life writers.  Here it is.

I really should be writing.  That is what I've been telling myself every single day for the past month. New Year - new beginnings and all that.  I wrote a book last year.  Yep.  Me.  A whole book.  Words and everything.  It has pace and drama and most crucially of all an ending.  I'm not good with endings.  They're too endy.  I like to keep my options open.  So back to my point.  Writing.  Daily. Because I want to be a writer.  Or I am one already.  I think.  But when I get to that teeny tiny window in my toddler focused day and exhaustion has clouded my brain function I say oh not tonight.  Tomorrow.  I'll do it tomorrow.  I'm better tomorrow.  Tomorrow is a golden place of awesomeness where everything gets done.  

If you want to write you must read.  And so I push my tired eyeballs to try and make sense of the lines of regimented prose - at least half an hour before bed.  I read last night.  No idea what it was. Reading widely is supposed to improve my writerness.  But when its a toss up between the two?? I've only read 9 books so far this year.  I'm feeling the 75 book target breathing down my neck and it's only the end of January.  I've only written nothing.  Well.  Not nothing.  I wrote this.  I wrote Leo's thank you notes.  I finally finally wrote my query letter and actually sent it out to real agents with real email addresses.

There's a sequel to that novel you know.  Absolutely no idea what happens.  Few little bits here and there in the nooks and crannies of my brain.  But nothing on paper.  It's cooking I keep saying.  It's not ready yet.  I'll know the moment.  It'll be that day I start writing.  When I finally decide there isn't actually anything standing  in my way after all.  Because it can't be fear of failure.  I've already written one whole book.  And even if no-one else ever reads it - I did.  And it was good.  I'm not even sure I wrote it at all - I mean, I know I did but I think it was on some weird subconscious sleep deprived biscuit dipping lukewarm tea drinking level that is actually very hard to achieve.  It takes a lot of practice and biscuits.  And tea.  Which is why I'm always low on tea bags but never manage to drink a full cup.  It's something to do with being a creative person.  It's a thing.


And voila!  Free writing.