Yesterday I wrote for twelve hours with barely a pause for breath and I've done six hours today: write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write - you get the picture. I'm off to London now, to see Nick Dear's new play about Edward Thomas at the Almeida, and tomorrow I'm going to a talk about The Wasteland - what cultural riches. I'm mentioning this partly because it means my blogging will be a bit thin on the ground this week, but also because I firmly believe in finding ways to feed your creativity. If you do nothing but write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, write, you'll soon find that inspiration turns to stupification (which I don't think is a word, thus proving my point).
Take time out to read and think – absorb the best and worst writing you can lay your hands upon, because you'll learn from both. Stiffen the sinews : dream, walk, wander. Make a list of all the books you've read this year, then resolve to double it next year. Don't just sit at your desk and grind words out.
That's my excuse, at least....
No comments:
Post a Comment