Dear Aunty Enid,
Help please! It is so easy to get disheartened. I am just back from an inspirational week with some wonderful writers. My confidence was up on its feet again and I truly felt it was time to attack the Recalcitrant Tome for once and for all. (I confess I am not a one book a week person like you. )
I have found so many ways to avoid the large, lumbering thing. So - especially as Himself is to be away for a few days - I decided to go for the Big Writing Slog. I was feeling very excited about my plan. I am sure you would understand.
Now, I did realise that the Big Writing Slog would be all about sitting at the desk all the time doing all the writing. It’s a bit like Nanowrimo, but lonelier, and with less cheering and whooping and maybe with slightly more sensible writing at the end of it.
I was getting things arranged for the Big Writing Slog.. I was going to stock the fridge with the kind of food one can munch easily, whenever. (Note to Self: Not all in one day.) I was going to warn the postman that I would be in my dressing gown continually. I’d begun playing with post-it notes and cards and all that analysing-the-story sort of work. I’d even got as far as getting a new real-world paper file for my running notes. (“Running” being a loose term here and referring to the Work In Progress not Parcour.)
Then a mighty storm-cloud of Public Information arrived. I know it was possibly intended to nudge people towards buying up those few unsold Olympic tickets but my Bright Shining Scheme is now totally Darkened
Emblazoned across various media headlines, came this big loud message:
INACTIVITY IS DANGEROUS!
It is as dangerous as smoking (I don’t) and probably as dangerous as eating ten cream buns at a time (I don’t, but only because nobody’s brought me any) and definitely much more dangerous than tiger-wrestling in tights. Now there’s a thought . . .
I Have Definitely Been Told.
How Dare I even think of Sitting Down?
It was my National Duty Not To Be Inactive.
If I did not Move Briskly at all times, I’d cost the Hard-Working Tax-Payer Money.
If I did not Jig about like a Leprechaun thrice an hour, wiggling me lugs, I’d be bringing the NHS to its knees.
My Behind fixed on a Chair would become the National Affront.
(Ed: Surely some conflict of language here?)
And so on. Alas and woe is me!
This a Big, Big Problem. How exactly can I be Active with a Capital A and also do the lengthy wodge of work I really, really need to do?The “early morning walk” conflicts with the early morning pages. The “going to the gym” isn’t affordable, with no advance advanced. The “going for a swim” would use up three hours all told. Daisy petals don't help. Activity? Inactivity? Activity? Inactivity?
I really do not feel at all calm about this. I need to sit still and carry on with my Work in Progress, no matter how loudly the headlines shout.
So come on, dear Aunty Enid. Come on all you Awfully Big Adventurers! I’ve seen some of your svelte publicity pics – yes, even those recent ones from barely ten years ago. Please answer my question before the Ministry for Health Inspectors come rapping at the door.
How in the Name of Nike can I a) get my Big Writing Slog done and b) be Active at the same time? (Honestly, I’m having such trouble managing the laptop and the unicycle.)
Ps. I've put all my spare Capital Letters in this post so I don’t overwrite while Tome-ing.