Okay, I know the month is half over, but it’s been a bit hectic. So, this month, I’m going to:
- do some freewriting every day;
- try a short story (something which I haven’t done for close to 15 years);
- get stuck back into my Two-Act Play;
- work on some creative writing prompts.
I recently saw a documentary on the ABC about some woman writer, whose name I can’t remember. It told how she and her husband went off to live in the hills above Spain, or somewhere equally exotic. And they both used to write. For a living. All day. Just sit and write. How’s that? Even more amazing is this. They had kids. They had kids, and still they found time to write. Every day. I just don’t get it. Am I just making excuses as to why I’m not writing much? Or did they just have incredibly understanding children who knew to stay away when Mummy and Daddy were writing?
Interesting. So anyway, as I watched this documentary, I thought “why can’t my life be like that?” And then I thought “well it could be. Why don’t you just write?” But I worry that I’m not talented enough. I worry that I’m not clever enough. I worry that I’m not good enough.
I worry too much.
