The trouble with November is that it’s one of those tricky months that just happens; it sneaks around the corner when you’re not looking, and before you know what’s hit you it’s cornered you in a dark alley demanding your attention with an AK47. Or perhaps that’s just me. The days are short, the weather cold, and festive larks are creeping across the city, and I’m still trying to work my brain around the fact that Halloween has come and gone. I spent the evening indoors with a cup of peppermint tea and a couple of cheesy childhood Halloweeny films. My intention was to post something particular to the tradition, but after work I was just exhausted; I’ve been finding the retail business is demanding more and more of my energy, leaving hallow gaps of time when I just can’t get myself motivated enough to do the things I go to the mundane retail employment to enable. In short, Alice is, once again, not doing much writing. If I’m not careful that’ll be on my tombstone. “Here Lies Alice Radwell, … she never did much writing, at least that’s what it says on her blog.
Side-note; I actually want my tombstone to read either BRB (pertaining to my Buddhist beliefs) or Here lies the Proof that Wit Can Never Defend Against Mortality. End of side-note.
I’m trying heart and soul to push past the lethargy; assigning myself deadlines, and writing periods in short, manageable bursts, and I’m eating well staving off heavy, surgery, and processed foods as a way to keep my body energised and working to schedule. As a subscriber to the fact that there is no excuse for not-writing, I’m pressing forward regardless of my mood, not allowing myself the common extenuations writers give for not partaking in their craft. This is very important; not-writing is a habit no writer can afford to fall into. I’ve been there before and I’m not going back. However, under these conditions my writing is suffering; I’m slower on the keyboard and more abundant with errors, and basic ones at that. But you’re probably not here to listen (or read about) me complain.
Next week I’m attending (can you say attending?) a live-chat with Gregory Maguire, the genius behind Wicked and Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister. I saw the show recently in London, and was blown away by the magnitude of it all; I wasn’t sure how they went about adapting the intricacies of such a large and complex novel for the stage, but the reworking is seamless, and contains such catchy musical numbers. If I get the opportunity I will ask Mr Maguire what he thought of the story changes, but ultimately the talk is about the fourth book in the Wicked series, Out Of Oz. Alongside this spectacular event, of which I am very excited, I’ve got a short-story to get written, and ‘super secret awesome mega project‘ to get started. As you may understand from the nature of that title, this cannot and will not be revealed for a few months. Don’t say this blog lacks mystery and excitement. I even made the colour and shape interesting for you. Scadoo!
Anyway, I’ve got a book to finish reading and a pillow to collapse onto. A pleasant eve to all.