People often ask me if I find it hard to make myself sit down and write every day: does it take a lot of self discipline? Well, it doesn’t when I’m in the middle of a piece of fiction – novel or screenplay. But at the planning stage, the stage when I’m wrestling with plots and story arcs, the place where I am right now, it’s hard. And it’s exacerbated by a lack of hope and of courage: am I kidding myself? can I do it? am I wasting my time? Yesterday I couldn’t concentrate and gave up, and got out my patchwork instead.
Another thing is that more heavy snow is forecast for Thursday so for the second week running, it looks as if I shan’t be able to help Zoe out by driving into Sheffield and picking up the boys from school, etc. etc.
image copyright of Grimupnorth.com
Last week I was tweeting about that inspirational book Late Fragments in which the author who is dying of cancer can still see the beauty of the everyday. At the same time, I was having a Twitter conversation with someone in London about snow. He was wishing he got snow as often as we do and I was telling him that, yes, yes, I can appreciate its aesthetic qualities, but I still loath it because it cramps my life. That’s how crap I am at playing the glad game.
January this year is turning out to be a sister to February: a month of practising determined cheerfulness, resolutions not to complain, stiff upper lips and gritted teeth. So….I am thankful for my warm house, my kindly and chatty companion, my loving family, good friends, good books, and technology. The latter means I can have a messaging chat with Isaac in Colorado when a cough wakes me up at 4.30 a.m. and I can also send loving texts to my dear friend M who is seriously ill, and whom I have still not been able to visit because of worries I will give her this tiresome virus.
I’m trying to be a Pollyanna, but I am obviously in the remedial class and need a personal trainer in cheerfulness.
You know what?
It isn’t any of the above. It’s whittling about my friend that’s the problem. It colours everything.
Here’s a January view (sans snow) from the limestone edge behind the village:
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