I wrote a draft for a post yesterday, looked at it, and thought: it’s old hat; it’s explanatory; it’s repetitious (ie, haven’t I said all this before?).
I was up in the night (as I often am), and wrote: ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do for the blog. I’m casting about here because I didn’t like what I came up with before – clever claptrap. It was clever claptrap, but I was sincere in it – this makes me wonder because it seems that sincerity and clever claptrap can’t be together like that; the very terms seem to cancel themselves out.
What am I trying to say then?
What I did say in the sincere clever claptrap:
When you write to a brief – I did a writing course once – I know, dear reader – you must be sick of hearing about writing courses from me by now, and I didn’t set out with that intention when I began this blog – but I have done a few of them –
I have been trying to find myself through my writing – unsure of myself, and of my place in the world, and rather than endure the cold – the snow, the ice, the blizzards (ahem) – I mean – that feeling of being on the outside, looking in – I have gone back to basics, I have tried to learn anew…
Anyway – this one – an online writing course – it was new, I think, and they said they had deliberated as to whether to expect word-counts or not – and had decided for – so many writing situations require the writer fit into a particular set of parameters – that is, a word-count.
Hmm. That sounds to me more like journalism, or the sort of popular fiction that relies on world-count because the reader expects a book of a certain size – romantic fiction used to be like that – I don’t know what it is like now – I’ve given up the idea of writing romantic fiction, even as a way to earn my bread and butter.
No – I find it difficult to write to specs.