Trying to construct fiction over the last couple of days could be equated with sifting sand through fingers. I have managed to find even more things to divert me today – all of a sudden I found the need and the urgency to get my reviewing up to date. This is becoming obsessive.. writer’s block by any other name.
The last few mornings we have been watching the BBC before going to work. I have avoided this for many months now, because to be honest I don’t want my head full of the worries of the world before making worries of my own. This new remodelled Breakfast programme has had some good inserts which have surprised me.
The last two mornings they have featured authors. Cecelia Ahern (duh – why hadn’t I clicked that she was the youngest daughter of the Irish Prime Minister – and beautiful – no wonder her books sell…..scoul humph frown) whose books had not appealed until now, but hearing about her latest – I will look past the book cover, and a chap yesterday, whose name now deserts me, but not only has he produced four books this year, he plays in an awful orchestra… Now he inspired me. He doesn’t have time for Writer’s block to invite itself in.
Both these people of inspired me, and made me realise that trying to be an author – isn’t where I am at – at all. I want and NEED to write.. and that is why I am so frustrated at the moment. I don’t feel I actually produce anything of worth or note during any given day. I just shuffle never ending mounds of paper.
A book would lend authority to my words. Encase the dribble in a sandwich of cardboard, with a dust wrapper to cringe at. So it is just about trying to find the right book now for me to create – one word at a time…