The igloo dweller

Progress, like the amount of fun a man can have in an igloo (apparently), is minimal. I have been slogging on, losing the plot (literally) and re-writing like I have nothing better to do than get mired in a morass. I don’t even know what a morass is.

I have managed something like 500 words a day on average, a quite feeble effort, and I am struggling to figure out why. I haven’t got writer’s block, it’s more of a problem than that. In all honesty I might not be cut out for this. No amount of scraping at the icy walls will do it, it seems.

How’s that for negative thinking?

But I will persist. I know that I will get reinvigorated just as soon as my slow mind works out something interesting. My main problem are my characters, I reckon. The character development is meagre – it’s quite difficult to work out how to do it without it being overt. Subtlety has ever been my downfall. Belief sometimes too.

It’s lucky that I know that dips are only part of the journey. There’s always a resurgent peak to look forward to, isn’t there? Bah, just get back to blogging  and writing and stop this introspective babbling!

Oh, I’m not really in an igloo…


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