A little writing about writing

I feel I should clarify the assertion in my last post that writing isn’t working out for me. It makes it sound as if I am in a trough of writerly despair, with the back of my hand stuck to my forehead and smelling salts at the ready. I should correct this....

Last night

Got myself into a bit of a funk last night, talking to myself about the fantastic lives other people have managed to create for themselves. Look what she’s done, look what she’s done, and her and her and him. Oh, and meanwhile look what I’ve...

The alternative (part one)

I was writing a long and earnest blog post in response to the Booker judge who asserted that, ‘If you look at the trajectory of the average novel writer, there is a learning period, then a period of high achievement, then the talent runs out and in middle age...

The weekend

At work this morning they asked me, ‘What did you do on the weekend?’ and, after the moment it took me to remember back to the time before I turned into the street and then the gate and parked downstairs, I said, ‘I wrote ten thousand words.’...