It’s been a while, I know. I got interrupted. Life interrupted. Not only that, it made me face reality, which is never nice. That’s why I write fantasy.
The upshot is I had to increase my working hours; my paid for working hours, not the ones I spend bleeding onto the page and scratching letters in the blood. Now it’s all numbers, spreadsheets, policies and politics.
I’ve been sitting in bed at night, because they are the only free moments now available to me, thinking, ‘well I have about an hour, I could write something…’ and nothing comes. Nothing.
I feared my creativity had been sucked into a corporate void, I was being absorbed into the borg.
Then last night, I picked up an old script. It had been commented on by a guy called Erik Bork, who is, I understand, someone in Hollywood. I was supposed to have worked on it a while ago, but knowing the day of fiscal responsibility was looming I decided to use my last remaining days attempting, in vain, to finish my novel. I ignored the script. I re-read the comments and under “overall thoughts” it said:
‘this could definitely get real attention at festivals – and be compelling, emotional, entertaining and memorable’.
I dusted the thing off and began the re-write. Who knows if it’ll ever get made, who knows if it’ll ever get to a festival, but I should at least give it one more go. After all time is always running out.
My heart is still with my novel, but it’s better to write something and delete it later, than to write nothing at all and never know.
Here’s to carrying on no matter what.