Last week I wrote a book. I don’t mean I finished one or I wrote half a book. I mean I wrote a child’s novel in one week.
In truth I had planned it out and I knew my characters, but the actual writing was done in a week. I flew through it, getting more tired and depressed.
Why the depression?
Well, I think it must be the same for all writers, but it was my constant fear of worrying whether the writing was good enough. Would they like it? Was it written well? They plagued me while I wasn’t writing.
When I was writing? I was in a world filled with magic and tunnels. A world where I got lost and found characters that I didn’t know existed. It was pure escapism.
But I managed to get myself into a black mood by just worrying and second guessing my craft. I shouldn’t have worried. I sent the book off to the editor and she loved it. In fact she finished it and sent the corrections in record time. There had been no need to worry.
And the book? Well, it was for a competition and is now with them. I’ll let you know how it does.
So I’m tired after doing the book when yesterday I get an email that the university wants to ‘chat’ about my PhD proposal. Okay, I think. And I went in yesterday afternoon.
The chat wasn’t a chat, it was an interview for a place. Did I panic? No… Well, maybe I did, but it was an internal panic, not anything on the outside. I was serene on the outside.
I answered the questions, I muffed a couple. And in the end I left thinking it was fifty : fifty as to whether I’ll be offered a place. Still, it doesn’t help with the funding.
So I may be left with a place but no way to pay for it. But time will tell, and I think it is a problem that faces most postgraduates. I am just waiting to see.
But for the now? Well, it is time to finish ‘The Gone’. So I have on my music and I shall disappear into an apocalyptic world. Wish me luck. 🙂