Writing home

Maybe I am done with writing courses. I am always wanting to take another one..and another one…because, aside from greasing the creative cogs, they fill me with such joy and a sense of potential. But…I may have to put a full stop to that, for the time being anyway. The fact is that my concentration is shot to hell.

Whilst I accept that multi-tasking skills remain a speck on the horizon, I can’t seem to focus on anything in hand for more than a matter of minutes. I continue to grapple with “mindfulness” but suspect that my constant thinking about trying to be mindful defeats the point. Surely I should have managed to embrace its most basic techniques by now, but no… At least I still had the chutzpah to believe I could and would manage 3 consecutive 11 hour days of learning about “story development” but it was not to be, not this weekend anyhow!

Call me shallow if you will, but…bizarre though I know it sounds, I found that escapist fantasies, friends, drinking wine and shopping weren’t beyond my concentration abilities so that’s what I did! Indeed, what on earth else to do on the day when we faced the reality of David Cameron running the country for 5 years?


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