Ok, so now I’m scared. The course starts in October and panic is setting in. In a little over two weeks not only will I have one whipcracker on my back but a further twenty two ready and waiting to critque my work. In addition to this realisation I have just given myself a coronary by looking at a profile of all the PhD students and published recent past alumni. I want my mum. No I don’t – this is her fault. First of all she made me. Second of all she raised me to be the kind of person who takes stupid risks and then she actively encouraged me to apply for this MA in Creative Writing thing which I have somehow managed to get on and which is now the sole reason for a series of regular oesophagus spasms.
I have been trying to ignore the onrushing pressure by doing some actual writing. This is why I have not been blogging. Actual writing must take precedence over blogging for a bit. Not clicking on the little ‘e’ with an elipse in the left hand corner of my screen will help too. Email should also be avoided. Similarly online streaming of Grey’s Anatomy is banned on weekdays. Reading is allowed but only in small doses. No more getting lost in someone elses made up world when I should be concentrating on creating my own. Cats are prohibited from entering the room where I type. There will be no more holidays. There will be no answering of phones – except if it is Husband.There will be diarised writing slots. There will be a time schedule for chapter completion. There will be a colour coded wall chart. It will be like GCSE revision all over again. These are the rules. Non-compliance to be punishable by a lost opportunity and a complete sense of failure.