Excuses?
30 Jul 2010 2 Comments
in Blogroll, Random Musings, Struggling Scribblings
I know I was supposed to write excerpts from my badly kept journal and actually start to write regularly, but I seem to have hit a brick wall.
The first thing distracting me is this blasted 8-ball pool game my husband found on the internet and I cannot stop playing. It seems to have a hold on me, forcing me to play it between meals, after breakfast, after I do the dishes, after the washing machine men came, while the washing machine men were here, just all the time. The game’s not even very good, and every time you clear the table, more balls appear; it’s like perpetual pool, and I’ve definitely pot more than 8 balls, I can tell you that for nothing! Anyway, it’s open in another window, waiting for me to play it, I might be brave and close the window, risking the wrath of the 8-ball pool game…
The second thing stopping me from telling the truth and letting the world know what really went on and the real story behind my husband and I moving out, is the fear of reprisal; I know no one’s family is perfect, but I do fear that any revelation on my part of the mad woman kept at Fearnville Drive may lead to questions. However, artistic licence should mean that I ma allowed to write about my experiences and personally I think it was very dangerous for family members to behave in certain ways, knowing that my husband and I both share a passion for writing. As the old saying goes, “Be careful, or you’ll end up in my novel.” In this case, it would be “Be careful, or you’ll end up on my blog”, probably as a prose caricature of yourself, writhing in cyberspace, in agony. I guess cyberspace is a little less permanent than a novel, so it shouldn’t really matter.
To be honest, no one really reads my blog anyway, so in effect, I can say what I like really, even if I reveled names and addresses, it wouldn’t matter. However, dare I risk it knowing that people on Facebook may link to it?
The third thing stopping me from writing is just general laziness; I seem to have developed a knack for doing very little at all during the day apart from cleaning the kitchen and vacuuming. This worries me somewhat as I feel I’m turning into a turnip; the fact that my clothes are getting a little more than snug, that I have developed a taste for chocolates in the afternoon and my husband’s clothes don’t fit me properly anymore all point to one thing: couch potato. I get it’s the relationship belly, that spare tyre of contentment that both parties develop after a happy marriage. More about that in a later post.
Finally, I think after weighing up all of the things stopping me from writing, I have decided to face my fears and do it anyway. If all writers feared reprisal, then Wuthering Heights would never have been written, Josef Heller would never have published Catch 22, and Lawrence would never have been loving it up with Lady’s Chatterley’s Lover. So, I’ll feel the fear and do it anyway, it’s not like I’m writing anything controversial, just the truth. I guess one man’s truth is another man’s embarrassment, but then this should have been thought of when a 40-year old spinster was allowed to make my life a misery. Let the catharsis begin! Tomorrow…
Aug 01, 2010 @ 17:15:18
I don’t read it regularly, but I do read it
Writing – like the magnet on our fridge says about marriage and insanity – means commitment. Those who succeed in completing their great works (be it novels, short stories or blogs) are the ones who commit time and effort, who are willing to get into a routine of writing and are able not to deviate from it.
As I recall, Khalid Hosseini – whilst writing The Kite Runner – would write for an hour each morning before heading off to be a doctor. You just need to find a time of day that suits you and stick to writing for a period of time until it becomes a habit.
And Inshallah I’ll do my best to help you get there
Aug 05, 2010 @ 11:10:43
Thanks for reading Umair and thanks for being supportive! One nice dinner coming up!