I am reminded yet again that I am a writer as I print out a bunch of stories to be read and thoughtfully critiqued before our writers group meeting on Sunday. That I have to remind myself!
It is a while since I've attended a workshopping session, having decided some time ago that I am far more interested in novel talk than short stories. However, it seems the right time for me to venture forth once again into the realm of snappy prose and punchy endings. The timing is good, being in the midst of my training taper, and for pretty much the first time this year I have headspace to contemplate the exercise. With little more than a week to go until 'the great event', it is not long before I will officially run out of excuses for not writing. Perhaps Sunday's gathering will inject me with some inspiration.
Alas, however, my problem is just as much due to the fact that I am completely out of the habit. I need to claw myself out of various TV shows and Buffy DVDs and chain myself to the computer and embrace the words of an evening instead. My discipline dissolved around six months ago (shame!). I will probably need an immersion weekend down at the island to get me going, and then hopefully I can pick up where 2007 (best of years) left off. Right now I don't really deserve to call myself a writer.