The Bones of You

The last couple of days have been hard work, but this morning I got a lie in (9am!) and a leisurely chance to reflect on where I am. Writing every day has now become a habit I’m really happy with. All those gross and bad ones I can now work on shifting, but this one stays, because the comfort it gives me is becoming as vital as the occasional packet of (low fat) crisps or that first morning cuppa. In fact, some days it is the replacement for sweets or a sit down, but when I can’t adequately vocalise my issues, or there’s undue stress… I still find it tough, and there’s an area I need to work on going forward.

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My legs hurt this morning, but not nearly as much as they did the first time I did the Gym Challenge, so now I can move forwards and do a bit more. I may well be addicted to fresh sushi, if my desire to run out and buy it for lunch is any indicator (I will, but not yet.) I’m simultaneously joyous and disgusted by the news, and as a result have started regularly reading the Guardian’s online newspaper (and am happy at the political affiliation that automatically affords me.) No, I don’t agree with every extremist theory that’s thrown at me: some are genuinely funny, others quite sad. I’m more green than red and always have been, and you won’t win me over by fixating on a viewpoint that intentionally excludes the wider issues. However, this is an interesting time to be political.

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The NaNo projects is going almost worryingly well. There are two elderly men in an office I need to write a scene for this morning. Both their lives are intractably shaped by women they loved and lost and this is a viewpoint that is causing some longer term thought in terms of motivation. I’m also wondering if I can get away with a MacGuffin that might actually end up as being a scientific possibility, and which could end up underpinning a large proportion of my narrative. Options are, at this point in proceedings, fairly limitless. I love having an idea that I can write without stress: a lot of the times writing myself into corners is an occupational hazard. Not with this story. I keep finding ideas just opening up ahead of me and asking for a choice. I don’t think so far I’ve made a wrong turn. Time will tell.

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Stuffing myself with things to do always makes me happy. Writing is double the fun, and I really can’t get enough of it. My only concern right now is whether I’ll get everything done I want in the time available.