So here I am, hanging around the place with no very clear idea of what I should be doing. It’s not like I don’t have a list: the front door needs sanding down, filling and repainting; the duvet cover needs changing; the hawthorns in the garden desperately need a prune; I really should phone my brother…
And then there’s the writing. I finished and self-published Mortal a month or so back, and now it’s sitting on Amazon in about 1.5 millionth place in whichever format you care to check. So I ought to do something about plugging it—
But what? I can hammer on about it on Instagram and Twitter—even, after a fashion, on Facebook, although I’ve never managed to figure out how that actually works. I can churn out blog posts explaining how wonderful Mortal is; but who’s kidding who?
And what about new books? I’ve got one that’s ready to go to an editor; and another gathering dust somewhere. Basically, though, I’ve frozen in my tracks.
Twitter and Instagram, of course, are wonderful distractions: I can slump in my office chair, scrolling for hours, bored to the point of despair, but always with the pathetic hope that somewhere, just off the bottom of the screen, there’s something important or amusing… or even just marginally diverting.
I don’t think I’m suffering from writer’s block. It’s more an awareness of the sheer futility of writing. Does the world really need another YA fantasy book? A couple of minutes in Waterstone’s is enough to prove that it doesn’t.
So what’s the point of this post? It’s partly a way to fill in the time until I can decently chuck it in and wander downstairs for a bite of lunch. Partly an attempt to somehow work my way through things on a computer screen. Like, maybe if I just keep typing long enough, God will send down an angel to guide my fingers—
Before I hit the Publish button, WordPress now offers me the chance to run a post past an AI critic. According to this, I should ‘reframe my doubts about the value of writing into a more positive and encouraging perspective’, and ‘consider adding a clear conclusion or call to action to provide a sense of resolution or direction’.
So maybe I should stop whinging about the futility of writing and just get on with it. After all, the longest story starts with a single word. Let’s see…
Longtemps—
Excellent word, even if it is French. Feel free to use it to start your own novel…
The featured image shows a detail from Giotto’s Flight into Egypt (1305-06), in the Arena Chapel, Padua
Donald Hounam 