When writing is a chore
These days I can hardly call myself a writer. Bar the few emails I may write in the day, usually one-line ones to my partner, I don't write anything at all.
Tonight, I HAVE to write. My freelance story is overdue and although my editor is very understandable about my situation as a full-time carer for a five-month-old boy and told me to take my time, this piece will actually be almost two months past it's official due date. And just because she hasn't decided on which issue to publish it in, this does not mean I can take my time. For my own professional reputation, I need to have the final draft done and handed in by COB tomorrow.
It's only 900 words. I've only transcribed the first five minutes of a 30-minute interview *groan* and I've written almost 400 words of the actual first draft. It looks like I'll be doing quite a culling when it's done. And seeing as I used to be a subeditor for this magazine, I know well enough not to leave the cutting down of words to the subs as it's extra work for them and they hate it. Plus I hear they no longer have the resources to spend too much time editing stories anyway.
So ... hubby is sleeping next to the baby so he doesn't wake up and disturb me. He also cooked dinner and cleaned the kitchen so I have no reason to procrastinate. And writing this entry is not procrastination ... it's merely a way for me to open up my mind again and help me write. I am hoping that the floodgates burst and the words and inspiration come crashing through my brain.
On an unrelated note, we watched Seven Pounds last night. I'm aware of how the actors went to great lengths to not reveal what the movie is really about. And while it's good to not know so you get the full experience, all I'll say is that within about 20 minutes it's pretty easy to work out what's going to happen. We both really liked it.
Ok, I guess it's back to work.
Tonight, I HAVE to write. My freelance story is overdue and although my editor is very understandable about my situation as a full-time carer for a five-month-old boy and told me to take my time, this piece will actually be almost two months past it's official due date. And just because she hasn't decided on which issue to publish it in, this does not mean I can take my time. For my own professional reputation, I need to have the final draft done and handed in by COB tomorrow.
It's only 900 words. I've only transcribed the first five minutes of a 30-minute interview *groan* and I've written almost 400 words of the actual first draft. It looks like I'll be doing quite a culling when it's done. And seeing as I used to be a subeditor for this magazine, I know well enough not to leave the cutting down of words to the subs as it's extra work for them and they hate it. Plus I hear they no longer have the resources to spend too much time editing stories anyway.
So ... hubby is sleeping next to the baby so he doesn't wake up and disturb me. He also cooked dinner and cleaned the kitchen so I have no reason to procrastinate. And writing this entry is not procrastination ... it's merely a way for me to open up my mind again and help me write. I am hoping that the floodgates burst and the words and inspiration come crashing through my brain.
On an unrelated note, we watched Seven Pounds last night. I'm aware of how the actors went to great lengths to not reveal what the movie is really about. And while it's good to not know so you get the full experience, all I'll say is that within about 20 minutes it's pretty easy to work out what's going to happen. We both really liked it.
Ok, I guess it's back to work.