A good article in today's Times 2 about Margaret Drabble, in which she says that writing is an 'incurable disease'. I've been saying that for years. Furthermore, I wish someone would find a cure, and then I could get on with the rest of my life. Addiction to horses is similar (if a lot more expensive). I'm sure Mags would agree...?
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Incurable disease
A good article in today's Times 2 about Margaret Drabble, in which she says that writing is an 'incurable disease'. I've been saying that for years. Furthermore, I wish someone would find a cure, and then I could get on with the rest of my life. Addiction to horses is similar (if a lot more expensive). I'm sure Mags would agree...?
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Mags definitely agrees. I've been a horse addict since before I can remember, and believe me, that's a helluva long time.
Never been addicted to horses, but I definitely agree with Margaret Drabble. Case in point: last week was meant to be the last week of writing for me for a while until all things-baby are settled sometime in August/September - I told Sarah that I wouldn't be embarking on any further writing projects until then.
So what did I do this week? I wrote 9,000 words on a short story that's rapidly turning into a novella.
I tell myself I'm just keeping my imagination going; keeping it fresh. But really, I'm simply addicted to writing. I can't do without it. It's a thrill. A rush, even. Everything seems drab when I'm not writing, like all the colour around me has washed out. And you know, I even have plans - baby permitting - to tinker with my children's novel in the next couple of months. Something that I could do on a whim when I get the time alone - perhaps during midnight feeds or something, while Sarah's sleeping.
Perhaps...
There you go, that's my confession over. Who's next?
Who's next? Me again! Matt, you've said everything I feel. When the writing's going badly (or, as now, I'm awaiting Will's verdict on the WIP) I write short stories (which pay very well if they sell, but are just not the same as The Novel), write this, visit people's blogs, write unnecessary emails, fret, shout at husband, write to my Death Row prisoner, shout at husband again...if only there were a vaccination against this disease, I would be first in the queue.
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