When I made the conscious decision to start practising my writing more seriously, I knew that my issue would probably be to stay focused and determined, to keep at it regularly and establish a habit that I could rely on. I'm interested in a lot of things and I like to try out new activities as well as tried and tested hobbies I've come to love dearly.
I tend to organise my spare times a bit like I do my meals - i.e. not at all. I am mostly a nibbler and occasionally a binger when it comes to food and leisure, but I am never very organised or regular in what I do. I eat when I want to and I practise my hobbies when I want to. It should be that easy, shouldn't it? I like to write, I want to get better at it, therefore I should just be able to do it whenever I want. And that should be quite often because I always like to tell stories.
It seems to me like I pour into my writing a huge amount of hopes and expectations, and maybe, just like with food, these things I expect of myself are what can charge something I love with more guilt and worry than pleasure. And just like with food, I don't want to let that happen and I won't.
Maybe I should christen these posts Wacky Metaphorical Wednesdays, as I seem to be getting the hang of those metaphors. And at least, if they're not that great now, they'll get better!
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