So last week I went completely insane and wrote six film reviews between Monday and Friday, including watching the films themselves. They were all really cool documentaries, on various interesting topics, and I loved writing the reviews and was so happy about how well-received they were. I couldn’t believe how well I handled it, just pumping out all this writing, and fairly good writing too. When my friend asked me to write them, I agreed, but in the back of my mind I thought ‘I will let her down, I won’t be motivated, I’ll bomb out, I have no discipline’. This is usually the case for me when it comes to writing. I get all these great ideas and feel this desperate urge to write, but when I start, fairly soon, my passion dwindles and I give up after a couple of pages. The idea begins to look, well, crap, and I think, how did I ever imagine this was a good idea?! So I was totally shocked when I just churned out these reviews and the editor loved them so much, hardly made any changes (even to the one I pumped out in an hour after just having watched the film the hour before!) I started to think, hmm, maybe I’ve changed, maybe I can write, maybe I am a writer!
I know now that I am a writer, I was all along. Writers write, as my grad dip tutor used to say. So I got almost used to juggling my work and writing in any spare moment I had – I even stayed at work til 6:40pm (oooh, that’s late for me!) on Friday to finish the last review. But then, come Saturday, I had no more left to do. There is another I could do, but the film festival (I’m writing reviews for the London International Documentary Festival – www.lidf.co.uk) started on Saturday, so it seemed too late to do more. And I wanted a break. Or at least I thought I did.
Instead of just having a break and then getting on and doing some more writing, maybe even my own writing, I did nothing at all on Saturday, and the same on Sunday! I started to feel drained from all the writing, but lost as well, because I felt like I should be doing more, I missed it. I wanted to write a blog post, as I had been using the reviews as an excuse not to blog, but even that I couldn’t get motivated to do. I didn’t have any ideas! Or it was almost like I had too many ideas that were getting all confused in my head and I couldn’t sort them out.
So I decided to write this, about how I can’t write! Reminds me, though, I’m reading Michael J Fox’s Lucky Man at the moment, and it’s really fantastic, he’s a great writer. It’s especially impressive because it’s not ghost-written at all, it’s all his own work. And it’s a great story too, really interesting, very insightful.
I’m thinking about what makes me motivated to write. It’s a really odd thing actually, it’s near impossible to predict, to know when I’ll be in the mood to write and when I’ll feel completely demotivated and lazy. I guess you’d call this writer’s block; although if I were working on a particular thing, a book or script or something, then I’d feel more justified in saying I’ve got writer’s block. At the moment it’s like I have the urge to write, desperation almost, but I just can’t work out what to write about, every idea is like a dream, kind of hazy, I can’t grasp it and write it.
Well I was hoping this might help unlock that motivation. I was thinking maybe it’s because I’m at work that I can’t write, because I know I need to leave in an hour for my kickboxing class, and there is other stuff I should be doing. But I don’t even think it’s that; it’s just general loose-endedness… feels better to have written about it though!