The Frontier of Sanity

Somebody That I Used to Know, Gotye. Incredible. Just incredible.

I'm working on a new story. It's not going to be an epic, maybe 20-30 thousand words. I don't know how that would be classified. I... really, really hope I see it through to completion. I feel it'd be something to be proud of if I did.

It's occurred to me that, if I want to be a writer, then I need to have a level of self-restraint and control in place pretty much all the time. Take a look at me when faced with alcohol to see a prime example of my lack of either. I'm not going to get wasted, I promise. Two hours later and I'm falling over all over the place, struggling to remember who I am and drinking more to delay the hangover a little longer. 

Maybe I need to stop staying up 'til ungodly hours such as now writing a story that no one will ever read unless I have credible A level results. Which means getting some sleep so I can actually do productive revision tomorrow to get the credible A level results I need to get into the university I want to which did you know is really really quite competitive, damnit. Get into that university, and I'll learn how to write readable stuff so someone will want to read the things I stay up all night writing - writing the things I pour my heart into because nothing else matters when I'm in control of my characters and my events and my places and my grammar and everything else that lets me sink into my imagination and surface hours later with a piece of writing that I don't even know is good enough for anyone to want to read. But I have a better chance of writing stuff that people want to read if I have the credibility that comes from a good degree from a good university that I get to from good A levels that I get from doing the work that I can't do when I'm sleeping in 'til midday and being distracted because I'm staying up 'til ungodly hours such as now just writing. 

Writing. It's my favourite thing in the world - along with my cat and mayonnaise, I love it so much more than I'll ever love any human being, but we all know what they say about too much of a good thing. It's driving me insane. These thoughts keep batting around my head, these what if you don't actually make it? What if you hit forty and you're still working in the same dead-end job you told everyone you only started to pay the bills, just until you can support myself with your writing? What then? What will you do, Katherine?

I'm sorry

Quote of the Day: I'm just a little bit heiress, a little bit Irish, a little bit Tower of Pisa whenever I see you, so please be kind if I'm a mess. [Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk, Rufus Wainwright]