When you’re smiling. Oh when you’re smiling. The whooooooole world smiles with you. (Sing it Louie!) Oh but when you’re … tired, you bring on the yawns. You bring on the yawns. Did you just sing those words in your head to Louis Armstrong’s famous song, ‘When you’re smiling?’ It would be cool if you did because I just did, and that’s the cool thing about writing – it’s a way of communicating but it’s like this secret way. Secret because the author and reader have an explicit relationship (it’s definitive. Like clockwork.) One writes, the other reads. Or vice versa. Advertisements
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.
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.