I wish I had the magic solution. Perhaps a pill to take when procrastination calls. Maybe some medicine when the muse vanishes. Something, anything, so that I do make myself sit down and write.

Yes I know it comes down to dedication and determination. Throw in deadlines as well...why not. But in reality there are times, when nothing, makes the writing easier.

Yet there are times, when I do get into it, that I really enjoy.

Totally relate it to my gardening. I had plans...BIG PLANS. So much was going to be accomplished...yet at the moment I'm in a state of near total exhaustion. We are lucky if I manage home after work and get a meal cooked. By the time Little Miss is safe in bed, it's time for my bed and sleep!

Yet, months ago when I put in my rosemary clippings (see above)...they looked like nothing. Little twigs set in the ground.

Fast forward a few months and heh presto. My Rosemary Hedge (see what I mean about having big plans...this will be a hedge of rosemary...just wait for it) is starting to show signs of accomplishment. In fact, on the weekend when guilt drew me out into the garden, I gave it a small hair cut to set it on it's way.

Writing, I fear is so much like this. At least for me. I have big plans, sometimes HUGE PLANS...yet as so often happens these plans do not eventuate.

I start off full of joy and anticipation, excitement twirls throughout. Ideas bounce off each other, notions and concepts are dreamt...then reality hits. Hard.

I often look at my new idea...this fragile thing I have started to create and wonder what on earth I was doing. It's nothing like I had envisioned. I see the mistakes, the errors. I become disheartened. Why on earth would anyone want to read this drivel? What have I got to say that hasn't already been said?

Yet on good days even the mistakes are interesting.

There is often a shape, a texture, a glimmer of something exciting hiding within. Some days I can work with it. Make it become part of the creation.

Or else I can simply acknowledge it for what it was. No writing is ever wasted. It's all a learning experience. It teaches us so many things. Even if the lesson is not to do it again!

And sometimes you discover, what you thought was a mistake, works in its own right.

At the moment I'm working on two WIP's. One is an adult novel that I'm re-editing, hoping  that I WILL hand over to a cold reader. The other is a junior novel...very fact only a few hundred words in. This idea came one night when I couldn't sleep, so (and as we know, everything that looks brilliant at 3 am makes no sense in the clear light of day) I'm now trying to figure out the nuts and bolts of my world and the situation.

But at the moment, I'm enjoying both bits of writing. They are different...different stages of work. One is the (what I find difficult) cutting out and adding and trying to make sense of a big whole...the other is the 'let's start to write and see where I end up'.

Wish I could say I was this mega cool writer person that knew exactly what I was doing. What works, what makes me write, what gets me out there doing what I do really enjoy doing...

But I'm not.

I do what I do, when I can. As long as the enjoyment is still there, for me, that's the main thing.

Just wish there was a pill...or some medication.
I'd be on it straight away!



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