One Day for Writing

The year that was 2020, also know as the year that never was, ate a part of my soul. Anything that could go wrong went wrong and I’m still bloody lucky.

The year made me reflect, it made me angry, sad and everything else you could imagine. Greif and Joy make strange bedfellows.

A thousand years ago in 2019 I had made plans of things I was going to do with the site, how much writing I was going to do and research. All of that came to nought.

I did manage to finish my outline/first draft of my novel but that’s it. Output has been appalling generally.

Lately whenever I have attempted to start to write, no matter where I am and using whatever medium I have to hand, I still get disturbed. Then there’s the loss of flow and that’s the entire day, kaput. Maybe that’s my own fault and maybe that’s just an excuse.

The household has been advised when I sit to write I’ll be doing it in a certain space on a certain day of the week.

<p value="<amp-fit-text layout="fixed-height" min-font-size="6" max-font-size="72" height="80">I was once told that “the weekend is where your passions go to die” which in some ways is fair. However, I don’t have the luxury, energy or mental capacity to write after finishing work. and Saturday is filled with domestic obligations so here we are. Writing on a Sunday. A single day to cram all my creativity either with my novel second draft or a short story. At least I’m carving out a space in my life for this and it’s better than just letting it die.I was once told that “the weekend is where your passions go to die” which in some ways is fair. However, I don’t have the luxury, energy or mental capacity to write after finishing work. and Saturday is filled with domestic obligations so here we are. Writing on a Sunday. A single day to cram all my creativity either with my novel second draft or a short story. At least I’m carving out a space in my life for this and it’s better than just letting it die.

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