I set up this blog intending to write about stuff that interested me and obviously that I hoped interested others. But for the past few weeks, basically since setting this thing up I’ve felt basically so bleurghkh. I spend whole days in exhaustion or catching up on sleep that feels long-lost and dearly recaptured. I don’t know why. And the dreaded Craving is coming back, the craving for all things stodgy and sweet.
I have bags and bags of rubbish I’ve bought to try and interest myself in something… Mostly CDs and DVDs. I long ago gave up on books after filling shelves with stuff I want to want to read, but don’t actually want to read. I do love books, just not the kind of books I had been buying… yeah, yeah. Doesn’t make sense, I know. It’s the same with the DVDs, they’re films I might like to watch on telly… or I might have wanted to watch in some times past… but not now. Not any more. I don’t subscribe to mega-multichannel television, but all television is digital and multichannel these days. So I get way more than 100 channels. And still there hardly ever seems to be anything worth watching!
A lot of it comes down to “mood,” I suppose… mood, the predominance of a person’s feeling over a particular timeframe. I’ve had bad moods, extreme moods, going back years.
I actually prefer writing to reading nowadays by a long way. A few years ago I had a breakdown that left me in smithereens. The good thing about being broken to bits is that you can take those countless little pieces and reform yourself into anything you desire, at least that’s what I tried to do. I have always had the ambition to be a writer. Note I didn’t say I’ve always wanted to write a book: just about everyone who’s literate has wanted to write a book at some point in their life. No: with me, I have always wanted to be a writer my whole life through. There were times when a lot of other stuff got in the way. (And a lot of that stuff you could categorize as illness ― and illness can shade off into excuse-making, pure and simple… How are you supposed to know how ill you are when you feel crappy pretty much all the time?) So instead of looking at things that way, I turned them on their head. If you’re feeling none too brilliant, that can be a great time to put the fabulous worlds you have created on paper. So that’s what I decided to do.
And I did have those fantastic worlds, and it was fantastic worlds I wished to write. Instead of writing about myself, I took to writing children’s books, children’s adventure novels set in the world of animals. One thing that did weird me out about writing for children ― and I’m talking about older children here ― is that the general intellectual level of a children’s book is pretty much the same as adult popular fiction. Which is kind of scary, when you think about it ― how un-grown-up most adults actually are…!
Writing gave my life a form and meaningfulness it had never had before. In fact writing my first ever proper completed decent novel marked the first time in my life that I had set a goal and actually realized it more fully and completely than I had planned to. I got totally swept away by the whole process of writing. It wasn’t (unfortunately) as if writing somehow healed the rest of my life and made me better. It actually made me more single-minded than before which is not necessarily a good thing. But I am really glad I created things I actually consider to have value ― more value than me, in a way.
So the next stage is actually getting this stuff out into print. And I don’t know what to do!
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