Sometimes I masquerade as a writer. The costume is cheap…jeans and a t-shirt. Rips optional.
Other times, I almost feel like a writer.
And then there are the times like today. I know I have written. But what does it all mean? If you write every day, are you a writer? And surely you’re an author if you have books published, no?
I’ve been reading over my words and wondering what it is I’m doing. I think it’s time to attempt an outline again. I feel like I have run out of things to write about. I struggled a bit at the Muskoka Novel Marathon a couple of weeks back. I went from speed writing early on to trying to dig up stuff to write about. I ended up writing AND THEN THIS HAPPENED AND THEN THIS HAPPENED AND THEN THIS HAPPENED. It no longer felt smooth. The flow got cut off somewhere during the weekend. I don’t like struggling with words and ideas. It’s not something I usually do. I am going to attempt to outline a novel. I have failed miserably at this in the past. I eventually said that it wasn’t for me…but now I’m pretty sure it just wasn’t for me then. Let the experiment begin!
In the meantime, I’m kind of feeling more like a grandfather than a writer. So…here’s a picture of my grandson, Edward. I took it while we were at the park yesterday.