I had a writing post planned for today, just not this
one. It was a rant; a moan; a whinge, and I didn’t want the blog as an outlet
for frustrations but a place full of motivation and inspiration.
I’ve certainly been inspired recently. At the end of
July, I realised it was annoying me that I wasn’t managing to find time to
write: I was too tired when I got home from work and best intentions and all
that wasn’t getting me very far.
I started getting up early. I normally get up at 6:45, but set the alarm for 45 minutes earlier with the intention of having a writing session every morning before work.
This is my fourth year of participating in NanoWriMo – National Novel Writing Month – although not four years consecutively.
It was a difficult decision whether to enter this year. I’m now working full time and trying to make it to the gym in a few evenings as well. Trying to work in 50,000 words on top of what I’m already trying to do felt like a lot.
But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it.
Since settling in my job, I realised I was missing it. I was too tired in the evening to start battling new storylines. I had chores to do at the weekend so I didn’t justify the time, despite there being nothing other than my own thoughts holding me back. It has been a long time since I spent a Sunday afternoon in another world, playing with plots and characters and being swept up.
Over the last month, I have begun to think of myself as a book blogger. Involving myself in chats has revealed there are a large number of bloggers who spend their time with their noses in a book. Or if not that, thinking about books.
It was such a refreshing discovery. I have always been a keen and active reader. At family events as a child, I would be found curled up in the corner with a book. Now, however, it is my cousins in the corner with their DS’s. Are we as a generation losing our love for reading?