Friday, 29 April 2011
Instead of writing so far today I have been procrastinating. In other words, finding a number of other things to do rather than writing.
I laid out my notes, tidied my writing desk in preparation and then found myself distracted. I planted some herbs, cooked, planned and booked a mini-break, organised my wardrobe, rearranged some furniture and then moved it back to where it was before.
And while all of this was going on, those little butterflies were flitting around in my stomach. It is the apprehension and fear of beginning the work. The dread that the words I put down on paper won’t be as good as the story I am carrying around in my head; that terrible self-doubt creeping in and tainting my idea. Tomorrow then.
Labels: Life, My Novel, Personal Strife, Writing
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