Focus, and Finish the Fucker
Went to print out something at home the other day and the printer wouldn’t work. It took me a few more minutes than it should have to realise that I hadn’t connected the printer to the new Wi-Fi following my move from Sky to Virgin. Took me a while to sort, but I got there in the end.
The thing I wanted to print out was one of my nearly 'so close, but so far' finished novels so that i could read it on paper and get back into it in my head before finishing it. It’s 52k words at the moment and I reckon it’ll probably only be about 5-10k or so to finish it.
Yesterday I put the A4 file with the 167 page, almost but not quite finished, effort in my bag, with the thought that I may get to read some whilst out.
In the end I didn’t get around to reading any of it, but it was weird how I bumped into two people in the same pub—half an hour apart—from my old writing group (the Poised Pen). I left the group years ago and it died a little while afterwards. Don’t think me leaving was the catalyst for its departure, so don’t blame me. I do think that it was a spooky coincidence seeing two of my old writing cohorts, in a place I regularly go to—but have never met either of them there before—whilst I’m about to revisit a serious writing endeavour. It’s October I guess so Spooky! is the way of things, ain’t it?
Next things. Read. Focus. And complete writing the fucker.
The thing I wanted to print out was one of my nearly 'so close, but so far' finished novels so that i could read it on paper and get back into it in my head before finishing it. It’s 52k words at the moment and I reckon it’ll probably only be about 5-10k or so to finish it.
Yesterday I put the A4 file with the 167 page, almost but not quite finished, effort in my bag, with the thought that I may get to read some whilst out.
In the end I didn’t get around to reading any of it, but it was weird how I bumped into two people in the same pub—half an hour apart—from my old writing group (the Poised Pen). I left the group years ago and it died a little while afterwards. Don’t think me leaving was the catalyst for its departure, so don’t blame me. I do think that it was a spooky coincidence seeing two of my old writing cohorts, in a place I regularly go to—but have never met either of them there before—whilst I’m about to revisit a serious writing endeavour. It’s October I guess so Spooky! is the way of things, ain’t it?
Next things. Read. Focus. And complete writing the fucker.
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