Writers.They’re funny types. Weird. By this, obviously I am including myself. Think about it… if there was an athlete training for a triathlon or a marathon or some serious, inevitable event, what would they be doing? Training. Training. Working with a coach, being disciplined, off to the pool at 5.30am, only eating roast potatoes on a Sunday, that sort of thing. Advertisements
I can’t see the bright burning sun of Goals and Purpose anymore. I used to see it in my university studies: both in the frenetic journey of research and essay-writing. The light at the end of the tunnel would be a HD mark: a mailed-back essay with a cover sheet scrawled in my messy handwriting. (like a teenager who just has their pen licence pretending to be a grown-up) The elation translates into a feeling, could perhaps be turned into dialogue …. You: (about to look at your essay mark, your stomach churning) “Hmmm, if I get a bad mark, I don’t care anyway.” Very Clint Eastwood bravado approach. Laissez-faire. Before opening it you reason with yourself, bargain with yourself.