Making things difficult for myself...
Listening to the radio and looking at book reviews in newspapers recently has made me think that I probably haven't been doing the right thing about my writing career.
Instead of writing novels, why haven't I opted for the obvious choices that seem to be getting quite a lot of publicity these days?
I could have written my very own misery memoirs about depression and eating disorders, although it's true I haven't got any celebrity friends or haven't dated any actor.
I also could have written an oh-so-shocking-that-it-would-have-been-censored-by-the-education-minister(s) book about my years as a teacher in London, only telling it as it really is out there (you really don'twant to know...) and creating a bit of a stir in The Guardian and the TES book reviews pages. The stuff I've seen and heard... everything, apart from kids learning anything, ever.
But you know what, it would be so boring to write.
Therefore I am going to carry on the way I've started, just follwoing my instincts and interests. It might mean I will never be published, but at least I would have remained true to myself and to the dreams I had when I was a child, when I was dreaming of becoming a writer.
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I think therefore I write.
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