I don't know what a blog is - I am sometimes invited to write one, sometimes there are conferences where you pay money to be told how to write them. I write what I like, there isn't a theme, if you see the opening blog last year, you can see that there was an agenda of sorts. It was never intended to form the basis of anything. In someways it was just a useful place to hide my diary.
Now, due to my somewhat belated understanding of "how it works" , and of course the fact that the last place to "hide your diary" is on-line I know better. In fact it is now eternal, until they run out of energy to run the archives, or the space required to archive this stuff runs out... So what I have noticed, looking back over the year is that it provides me with a useful aide-memoire for what I've been doing. And of course when an astrologer says "some of the themes that were playing out in June will return to haunt you" I can now check what I was considering last June... and see if that's true.
But this is basically a censored diary - I could just start keeping a proper diary again, but I've got out of the habit -so is it worth it? One writes in the hope of engaging - but no-one is engaged with this - it's read, but not engaged with. Perhaps people who read blogs don't write comments - just as those who write them don't usually read other blogs much (or perhaps they do).
I've had a very idle day today - I tried to find something I wanted to do, but I really couldn't. What is wrong with me? My brain is absolutely dead. It has come to a full stop. I think I dreamed about dying last night. I am in a flux over the book - I ought to be pleased I've got this far, but instead I'm feeling angst and dread of what the Agent will say. Not that she'll be seeing it until the next edition has been prepared...at least.
I ought to be feeling very good: the sun is shining, a miraculous pay ment of £4,000 has appeared in our bank account, courtesy of HMRC (yes, it must be a mistake - but it's a very timely one) which means we can make a lot of payments and not panic about money we owe... and I have a novel... but instead I am feel scrunched up inside and very anxious indeed. I have been through a period of very major change in the last few months, I thought I knew where I was going, but now I am having a crisis. yes, I know I can write, but I'm feeling so frustrated with what I've written. Tomorrow I will get a hard copy of the novel from the printer and then I can read it properly. Maybe that will make me feel better.
Now, due to my somewhat belated understanding of "how it works" , and of course the fact that the last place to "hide your diary" is on-line I know better. In fact it is now eternal, until they run out of energy to run the archives, or the space required to archive this stuff runs out... So what I have noticed, looking back over the year is that it provides me with a useful aide-memoire for what I've been doing. And of course when an astrologer says "some of the themes that were playing out in June will return to haunt you" I can now check what I was considering last June... and see if that's true.
But this is basically a censored diary - I could just start keeping a proper diary again, but I've got out of the habit -so is it worth it? One writes in the hope of engaging - but no-one is engaged with this - it's read, but not engaged with. Perhaps people who read blogs don't write comments - just as those who write them don't usually read other blogs much (or perhaps they do).
I've had a very idle day today - I tried to find something I wanted to do, but I really couldn't. What is wrong with me? My brain is absolutely dead. It has come to a full stop. I think I dreamed about dying last night. I am in a flux over the book - I ought to be pleased I've got this far, but instead I'm feeling angst and dread of what the Agent will say. Not that she'll be seeing it until the next edition has been prepared...at least.
I ought to be feeling very good: the sun is shining, a miraculous pay ment of £4,000 has appeared in our bank account, courtesy of HMRC (yes, it must be a mistake - but it's a very timely one) which means we can make a lot of payments and not panic about money we owe... and I have a novel... but instead I am feel scrunched up inside and very anxious indeed. I have been through a period of very major change in the last few months, I thought I knew where I was going, but now I am having a crisis. yes, I know I can write, but I'm feeling so frustrated with what I've written. Tomorrow I will get a hard copy of the novel from the printer and then I can read it properly. Maybe that will make me feel better.
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