I used to dedicate a few hours a day to creative writing. I’d take great care in putting together my “reflective journal”, pasting in every hilarious/inspiring/thought-provoking/downright wrong clipping, quote or thought that came to mind. It was brilliant to pore through on a rainy day. A tangible imprint of the writer within.
I was home sick today. Getting up just didn’t agree with me. It could have been the fact that I was up half the night coughing; perhaps it was the fact that the weather was especially gloomy and I had a whopping big serving of SAD syndrome (look it up); or maybe today was just best spent in bed, under a doona, sipping hot lemon water and reading Stephen King On Writing in between extended periods of slumber.
If you’ve never read it, read it. Bloody brilliant. The man reminds me, without even trying, why I used to stay up until 3am typing madly into a Microsoft Word doc while everyone else on ressies got shit-faced and shagged each other.
3 Comments
June 6, 2008 at 5:17 am
Agreed. I loved that book. Are you doing NaNoWriMo this year?
June 6, 2008 at 5:49 am
I’d never heard of it, but just googled it. Do you mean this? http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano
Not sure … sounds pretty cool – and hard-core!
Are you doing it??
June 18, 2008 at 4:39 pm
Yep, that’s it. I gave it a go last year but a combination of rehearsals and my utter shitness had me stalled at about the 10k mark. I still fire up the Unfinished Masterpiece every now and then – it’s a lovely, ridiculous Douglas Adams-y mess of half-arsed satirical cliche spy thriller with a big stain of self-loathing all down its front. I don’t mind it