Doing That Thing I Hate,

Yeah, I know that could be a very, very long list of things but I really do hate writing about not writing, but sometimes that is what it comes to. 

I wanted to write this, because even though I have been writing every day it hasn't been a blog, but I have managed to publish a blog every day and that's been feeling pretty good. Even though I haven't necessarily been publicising them every day - even when I have had photos prepared to post with them since I HATE wordy Insta stories! - because there has been a lot going on. Which I'm not going to talk about. 

Today was my first day in the office this year and it was A LOT to say the least. It meant getting up a lot earlier than I am comfortable with, trying to leave the house with what I needed for the day (and failing not because of forgetting anything, but just not being able to anticipate everything I was going to want or need) spending too long driving and that not being hugely pleasant, realising in the middle of the day something was itching and I wasn't sure if it was my skin or something that just felt itchy in my mind, or in my soul or whatever, and so even though I took my laptop with me to the office (I don't mean the work one, though I obviously did take that one) with the vague intention of writing something on my lunch break, I didn't even take it out of my bag whilst I was there. I was trying to think what I could write whilst I was on the way home and honestly, it was honestly the least inspired I have felt for the whole of this year. I felt empty; devoid of all thoughts and opinions, and let's face it, that's not like me at all. 

What changed was the closer I got to home, once I had collected the pooch from my parents, the more I felt I was getting my groove back. That's not to say I walked into the house and felt like I could write a novel in five days, or crack out a poem in under twenty minutes, but I felt a bit more like my normal self. I'm still overwhelmed and I still feel like there's an army of ants crawling across my skin, but there's a bit more "Charlie Flavoured Normality", not to be confused with the regular kind, mixed in there. I've sent the pooch to bed early (and yes, I feel very guilty for that, got into bed with a thermos-type tumbler of tea (I don't have anything against mugs, I just don't like drinking cold tea and it's too cold at the moment for me to drink hot tea, because I forget about it), my pjs on and my electric blanket keeping me warm, and I'm writing from my bed. It's not the best idea in terms of sleep, but it does mean I will get this published before midnight and I think that will soothe some of my ruffled up feathers as well.

I even thought about outlining the plot of another novel (yes, I know, finish those you are currently writing before getting distracted by any more!) before I realised it was a bit like a film that I love, without the intention of being, so decided not to bother. 

I've Been Ignoring My Blog Again,

Yeah, so I have been ignoring this thing again, and really, the truth is that I don't mind that. These last few months have been busy with work and dating and hating dating and all sorts of things and now it's Camp NaNo and I have never felt less like taking part than I do at this moment.

This past week I have been constantly exhausted but unable to sleep, so the idea of kicking my butt into writing has probably been one of the furthest things from my mind. Add to that the amount of work I have on at the moment and some other things that, for once, I would rather not talk about, I really don't know how this month is going to go and that's a shame because my unofficial camp project was to finish draft one of the novel from November which now seems to be somewhat unending. Part of me is tempted to stay up tonight whilst the fancy is taking me and cement all the little pieces together and then at least that is done. And the other part of me pulls a 'Scream' face every time I so much as think about doing that. Editing is not my strong point. Pulling the pieces of the novel together is not my strong point. I don't do chapters. This is going to be hell on Earth!!!

Alongside all of this I have had the joys of attempting to find myself somewhere new to live. Now, whilst this is not strictly necessary because where I live now I could feasibly continue to live for a while, but the distance to work and having to share with two boys and a mouse is not an ideal situation. I would much rather be back to living on my own, but it takes so much time to find a place, look at it and then inevitably write it off for whatever reason.

I make no commitments to this blog now other than the commitment which I make to myself at the moment. I am trying to be the best possible version of myself.

Catch you later.

The Cold,

As I wrote yesterday, this past week I have done a fat lot of nothing much, and whilst that has been great I seem to have acquired a cold. Well, a sore throat and sinus pain, but those do seem to be the pre-warnings of a cold for me. 

Whilst that is quite frustrating, I guess that it is better for it to happen while I can sit at home and take it easy as opposed to push myself to go into the office and feel crappy whilst doing it. 

Unfortunately though, I had hoped to get through some writing or editing or something whilst I was back at home and one week in, I have not really done that. I haven't really felt like it. Granted there is the usual issue of urgh, I wish I had a laptop with everything collated so that it wasn't so much of a mess about, but still, I have access to a laptop, I have my netbook with me and a couple of notebooks, but aside from one brief scribbling session, I haven't really touched any of it. 

Oh God, I just sneezed and it truly upset my dog. I think I need a hot tody.

I'm not sure how it has come to this because I would have thought that having an abundance of time would be just what I needed, but apparently not. Too much time with absolutely no structure is possibly - well, no, definitely - not productive. 

I think I needed something like NaNoWriMo in order to keep me on target and unfortunately that wasn't going to be a thing. Also I think that I would be tempted to go for another fifteen thousand word day, which, whilst very beneficial, would be pretty painful and probably would have brought on another nasty dose of NaNoFlu, which is never enjoyable! 

Anyway, I should probably put some effort in while thinking about it. 

Catch you later.

As If I Needed,

I have gone and done myself an, albeit minor, injury.

Last week, in a fit of infinite stupidity a message between brain and muscle got confused so instead of moving a whiskey glass upwards and sideways, I moved it diagonally, smashed it into a table, smashing it and slicing open a large cut in my finger. As that was bleeding profusely and refusing to heal quickly - it was pretty grim - I apparently failed to notice that a glass splinter had lodged in another of my fingers. Now that the cut is healing, the glass splinter is causing me a few problems.

Part of the problem with this is it is on my dominant hand and my other finger is still sore from the injury it sustained. My typing speed has taken a real hit and as this splinter is in the tip of my index finger, which is my main digit for typing. It's also pretty vital for pens and quills, so I can't even handwrite everything.

It might seem like I'm being dramatic - it surely feels dramatic when people around me are insisting I go to a walk in centre or something - but it really is rather bothersome at the moment.

Hopefully it won't have too dramatic an effect as it is almost Camp NaNo and I think, after much debate, I am going to commit myself to a project, though exactly what that is going to be I have not quite put my metaphorical finger on.

Catch you later.

When There Are No Words,

I want to dispell any idea that I haven't been writing on here recently because I've not been doing much or because I haven't had anything to say. Neither of those things is correct.

It's also not true to say that I have been mentally busy to the extent that writing a little something would have been impossible, but whilst I have had things to say, I know that I often say things emotionally and then wonder why I did it. 

I react emotionally to most things in my life and it's not something I believe I can do anything about, even if I wanted to. The bad thing about it is that when there are a lot of things going on, there are a lot of things that make me want to shout, scream and throw a tantrum and I would rather do that in the company of friends as opposed to the arena of the internet. A lot of things have really, and it's rare for me to swear on here, so hopefully that will indicate how difficult this has been, a lot of things have pissed me right off.

Some of them are just more instances of things I have written on here previously. I am so sure that people are sick of how, particularly recently, have been irritated by men forcing their interest on women when they don't want it, and how women owe them nothing, but it keeps happening. I feel like I've walked into another world entirely and suddenly it's just accepted that this is a thing. I hate the whole 'safe space' things at university and 'trigger warnings' without a damn good reason, but sometimes I want to trip back there for a few days of respite. Or just not leave my flat, and I don't need encouragement for that. 

The worst thing is I know that my frustration comes out when I write, and I can't deal with ruining all of the things I work so hard on because things are a bit shit at the moment. Yes, art imitates life, or life imitates art, and there have been times where I've felt like I've been dragged through an emotional blender, because one of my characters was heart broken or brutally murdered or something, but what I don't want to do is write something when I'm feeling like this, because I would get the nickname Georgia (after George RR Martin) for massacring everyone and everything. Of course, not writing contributes to the existential frustration and it all just becomes a self-perpetuating cycle which I struggle to stop.

Supposedly a change is as good as a rest, so I'm working on changes at the moment, but it's difficult because it's not something which I have control over, so I can't say as to when things will change. Or if that change will help.

See, this is why it aggravates me when people think that writing is just putting a pen to paper or fingers to keyboard - it is so much more than that. It just becomes a part of you. It has become a large part of me.