Change Is In the Air

Not the largess sort, however, as pleasant as that might be. I always wondered: who first thought that flinging chunks of metal into the air over people’s heads is a good way to distribute munificence? Even lolly scrambles can be lethal if the hard-boiled element is introduced. However…

It has not escaped my attention that this coming week contains my final five days at the DDJ. And once the first spasm of Tigger impressions fades out, I’m planning a few changes (including to the blog, so keep an eye out).

To begin with, alarms. My two-alarm system has seen me jerked awake at 6:30 and 6:45 every weekday morning for – er, a long time. No more of that, thank you! In fact, I am thinking of becoming rather less of a clock-watcher all round – having a progression rather than a programme to my days.

Then a nice purgy spring clean (early autumn, but let us not quibble – it’ll be spring somewhere) which will hopefully get rid of all the dreck and detritus which has built up in the absence of suitable quantities of time and energy.

The next step is to acquire a desk. Christina Rossetti may have made do with the corner of her washstand, but, well, I’m not Christina Rossetti.

This is not me. I have ears.

Monday writings were usually accomplished with a board over my knees, and before that I sat sideways to my rather nice little bedside table, but never yet have I had a writing desk I can sit at and get my knees under. And it has to be the right sort of desk. I may be fussy, but if I’m going to be spending hours every day with this piece of furniture, it needs to be something I at least like.

Plus it’s a brilliant excuse to go trawling through all the second-hand shops – and since I don’t have to fit everything into Saturday morning, there’s plenty of time to consider the options and not get pushed by time and tiredness into buying something that isn’t really what I wanted, but happened to be what they had.

With so many changes imminent, you might say I am turning over a new leaf.

Drop Leaf Table

Ahahahaha… Sorry. I won’t do it again. For at least another paragraph. Probably.

As well as a greatly increased writing output, I am also aiming to spend more time on handwork, have people over for meals more often, and even spend more time on housework and gardening.

I know, the best-laid plans of mice and men – don’t involve being eaten by cats, and yet…
Until next week (if the cats don’t get me),
Sinistra Inksteyne

Existential Angst

As previously mentioned, I don’t like angst. And yet here we are.
On Wednesday I shared my internal debate on whether to use my true and lawful name on this blog, or to stick with my nom de plume.

nom de plume

So far the reaction has been largely “stick with Sinistra”, but it is a complex and many-faceted question, which I would still be greatly mulling over if it hadn’t led me on to an even more complex and many-faceted question.

What precisely am I trying to accomplish with this blog? I know what I said in my first real post, but is that still the case?

Am I here to fight procrastination, and help others do the same? Or am I here to talk about my own struggle with procrastination, and the writing life generally, and books on writing I’ve read and so forth?

I admit until recently I thought I had the procrastination pretty well sorted. I had my routine, I was doing fairly well. Then I went on holiday and got sick (yes, at the same time) and it all turned to custard.

09-September_qwest_pie_throwing_0129

I fell off the procrastination wagon big-time, and am still staggering down the road in its dust in the apparently vain hope that it will stop and let me back on. So yes, there could be some worth in carrying on the chronicle of the procrastinatory battle.

But am I writing for writers or readers? And if readers, readers of what?  Besides those of you who are related to me by blood or marriage (dear as you are to me, I suspect you would still be reading if I was blogging about the reproductive habits of newts a la Gussie Fink-Nottle), what brings you here?

Comparison of natural and experimental mating behavior in Ichthyosaura alpestris - journal.pone.0056538.g001

What little success I have had as a writer so far has largely been in the area of theatre. I am a scriptwriter. Not that you’d know it from this blog, as I am currently working on a fantasy novel, which is an altogether different kettle of fish. Or apples. (I don’t like calling it ‘fantasy’ for some reason. Perhaps because fantasy sounds a little too wish-fulfilment and not enough this-world-doesn’t-exist-but-would-it-not-be-fun-if-it-did?)

Is there still space on the great wide interwebs for ramblings about writing, reading, and the mating habits of newts the like?
Is anyone encouraged by hearing of someone else’s battle with procrastination, won or lost?
Or am I more style than substance? Would newts do?

Your input welcomed, even if you happened by while doing research into the aerodynamics of custard pies.

Your obedient servant,

Sinistra Inksteyne hand250