Today was an unimpressive one, on many levels, mostly though it was a day when not much writing got done despite considerable effort on my behalf. The words were not with me today, they trailed the page in unpleasant forms, and as much as I sat trying hard to restructure them, they simply wouldn’t string together nicely. It was like all the words of the English language were in an argument and were refusing to speak to one another. So, here I sit, the second of may almost behind me, and not much further in my writing quest. I’ve shut away the document for the evening, because clearly I’m not supposed to get anywhere else at the present time.
We’ve been blessed with warm spring days for the entirety of the extended bank holiday, but rain cooled the air this morning, and so I couldn’t get out and enjoy a walk. Usually, that helps to clean up my dusty brain. It’s just been one of those too long, not much ado days, I suppose, and I shall be happy to see the end of it. Even here all the words appear to be fighting. This sure is a grumpy post; I apologise.
Let’s move on to books. I’m reading a door-stop of a novel, called The Passage, which came highly recommended on goodreads. So far, so interesting, and with 633 pages left, I’m hopeful it remains so.
SuWriMos is approaching once again, and as of yet I’m unsure as to whether I will take part this year. It’s never a bad thing to challenge oneself, especially when it concerns the completion of writing pieces long in the pipeline, but I fear days like today will be prevalent if I push myself too hard. Or, perhaps today is just draining my spirits, and I will feel better tomorrow, when I once again return to the page. Hopefully, with more success. Times like this make me worry about whether or not I’ll ever be good enough to become a published writer. I guess all writers go through this feeling.
Time to end the day. Maybe I’ll have better news tomorrow.