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[filthgoblin]

Our home phone line, and therefore the broadband, is broken due to a "serious exchange fault". It makes me realise how much I rely on the 'net when I let out a frustrated howl upon the realisation that I couldn't Google for the fault reporting number. Roll on the day I can get a connection straight into my head.

This evening Mr G and I went to our local bookshop, Borders, which announced today it is to close down and that there was 50% off all stock. By the time we got there it was like the scene of a middle-class ram-raid. Large sections were already decimated and under the pressure of time and constant tannoy announcements that the store would be closing very soon and that the queues were very long I found it hard to choose anything. Mr G, however, suffered none of my paralysis and as a result we came away with a massive haul including three travel books on Vietnam for our travels in November and December, two books on the Vietnam War, a complete set of Wainwright walking guides to the Lake District (probably for gifts as we already have a set), four of the seven West Wing season box sets, the film Hunger, Andrew Marr's History of Modern Britain, Iain Banks' The Wasp Factory and Teach Yourself books on NLP and creative writing, the last three of these being my only choices. Oh, and the Taschen Big Book of Breasts. Not my choice, but I do approve.

I bought the creative writing book to see if it can kick-start me. I had a very defeatist conversation with terraswrath a few days ago about my inability to write and how I could never write anything novel-length. I'm still dubious, but also annoyed with myself for writing myself off without even thinking about it seriously, let alone trying. I'm not promising myself anything but keeping a journal is coming more easily to me now than it used to so maybe that's a sign there's something to develop.

In the absence of an Internet connection, we sat down tonight and watched Hunger. It's an unrelentingly grim film, all long shots with little action and no soundtrack interspersed with brutal naked violence. It was somehow compelling, though, and Michael Fassbender put in a stunning performance.

Anyway, iPhone keyboard is making my eyes go screwy and it's not as early a night as it was. Time to retire, methinks.

Comments

[terraswrath.livejournal.com]

I'm happy to hear that you're not going to write yourself off just like that. I for one believe that you are capable of writing something at novel-length, you just have it in your head you can't because you've never tried before. As you say - like writing a journal - these things get easier with practice. So yes, it probably will be hard right at the beginning when the plot is still young and you're not quite sure where it's going. But I've no doubt that persevering until you and your novel 'click' will be a rewarding experience for you. Writing a multi-chapter piece will both develop your writing style and give you insight into plot mechanics. The hardest part is getting down to do the dirty, and a defeatist attitude before you've even started - before you even have a plot to scrutinise - prevents that.

If you do get inspired and feel the urge to get writing, just remember, don't be deterred. I know what you're like with that perfectionist attitude of yours, but novel-length does not mean published quality, especially on the first draft. Even if the majority is complete shit (which I doubt it could be) you will still take away the experience of writing original, novel fiction. That is the worst that could happen. The best (most predictable) that could happen is surprising yourself at just how talented a writer you are, and maybe inspiring yourself to write more. At any rate, you know that no matter what you write I will be more than happy to read. I suppose it goes without saying that you have my full support if you do want to give the defeatist in you a good kicking and go for it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?

(Though I feel like I should point out that this is coming from someone who hasn't even been able to write something more than insipid drivel for two/three months straight. Go figure.)