So. Writing. For about two weeks now, I’ve not written a word. Instead, I watched thoughts about writing come and go and pass me by, like seeing something pass me as I sit by a river. Instead, I’ve been going into work at 6.30am and working away.
Interestingly, you don’t accomplish a great deal by going into work at 6.30. You just accomplish more of the same. As is pointed out to me in many different ways, the life of an administrator is essential, but unimportant. I’m a cog, and not much more. So I go home as tired as a Benny Hill cliche with no real sense of having done very much.
And the writing, well, as it moves away from me I’m seeing how unlikely it is that I can do anything with it, or accomplish anything. I’ll have to dig at the mountain with my pick axe for a very long time to sculpt anything out of it. These ladies deserve a decent platform and I’m honestly wondering if I can do it.
It is scary how persuasive that voice is, that says to leave it, someone else can do it. My personal motto is Stultum est non conantur. That would prove me the biggest idiot.