This year is panning out to be a pretty rubbish writing year! I had successfully managed to firmly reattach my derrière to my writing chair, but then life – again – happened…
Hubby broke his shoulder cycling (surgery plus six weeks in a sling), then daughter sprained her wrist playing football and is wearing one of these velcro straps things that apparently renders her incapable of motion.
To top it all, we’re having our only bathroom redone.
I have done next to no work since the end of October, so that probably qualifies. Lesson learnt: I should never, never, have downed tools. One thing leading to another, I turned around and I hadn’t done any useable work for three months. To be fair, someone close to me passed away, and Christmas was a sad affair.
This is obviously a tough hole to climb out of, but from dithering to procrastination, I have eventually succeeded in dragging myself back to my writing chair.
Opening the laptop felt far too much of a commitment so I stuck to the 3 Ps: paper, pencil and post-its.
I took to writing fiction like a duck takes to water…
All the skills I had honed for years in my various previous jobs – as a lawyer, a coach and a web content writer – dovetailed into the most enjoyable working experience of my life.
I sat at my kitchen table, in my bed, or on one of my – many – sofas, and the words poured out of me, chapter after chapter.
Of course, editing is tough, but even that I enjoy. I have the right mix of self-criticism and self-confidence. I look at my work, and I go, ‘Yep, it’s not bad, but you can do better,’ until I decide it’s good enough for my current level of skills. I have what educators call a ‘growth mindset’.