May 29th 2016
Today I sat and wrote something that wasn’t one of these blog posts. Instead I wrote a blog post for another site. Recently I was asked if I’d like to contribute to a football based website by writing articles on various football related topics. Of course, I said yes. I’ve written one solitary football article before, but enjoyed it, and it’s good experience.
So I wrote a footbally article about footbally stuff and at some point this week I will send it off to, hopefully, get published on that website.
I think expanding my portfolio with work, whatever the content or context, will do me well in my ambitions of writing for a living. At the very least, it’s another thing to add to my CV. I’ve been told that if it goes well then I might even make some money off it, which is a plus, but not in any way my ambition.
It was the longest piece of work I’ve written consecutively since I last sat down with Book2. Book2 is an 11,000 incomplete second novel, I wrote that first 11,000 words in two days and haven’t contributed anything significant to it since. I’ve not been able to sit down and fully commit to writing anything for a while. Not through lack of mental desire, but more through lack of physical motivation. That may be slightly oxymoronic.
But today I found myself capable of one or two hours of solid creative writing. I mean, it wasn’t too creative because I was writing about football which, like, actually happened, so I wasn’t making anything up, but I still had to write it so that it was interesting to read.
I don’t know why it was easier to sit down and write about football than it is to sit down and write Book2, or Book3. Perhaps because it was less daunting because I knew the wordcount was shorter and the importance was less. The football article is a throwaway piece that is ten to the dozen, but I’m just writing it as a side project. The book’s are hopefully a career. Far scarier.
But it was easy to just sit and write, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it. This blog occasionally feels like a chore, but for the most part I enjoy it. When I eventually build up the courage to sit down and write a part of my book, I enjoy it because I get lost in it and time disappears as a story appears. And I can do all that, and it’s good and it’s fun, I just need to commit the time to sit down and do it. And that’s the obstacle. The obstacle is the sitting and doing, and I’ve spoken about this phenomena many times previously on this blog and so far I haven’t figured it out. I keep banging on about it, except now I have a word for it. Obstacle. It’s just something I’ve got to get over, or around. Although today was progress.
I’ve stuck to my plan all week, I’ve done everything I wanted to do this week. And that’s good. That’s really good. And little by little I’m getting there. But I just don’t get how such a small step (literally about 5 steps from my bed to my desk whereupon my laptop sits) takes so much effort, and how it’s so mentally exhausting before I’ve even started. I’m trying, though. And we’ll see.
Until tomorrow, it’s a start.