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i know it is not a prerequisite by any means, but it seems somehow remiss of me that I am a writer and have never been to a single event of the Sydney Writer’s Festival – even when it’s someone i really want to see (I can’t go to this, even though it will be great i’m sure, as i have something on that night).

a little naively perhaps, when i decided that writing was for the thing for me, that i would take it seriously and not just as a hobby, the solitary nature of writing appealed to me. i liked the idea that i could invent and inhabit worlds on my own, without needing the constructs of a ‘scene’ or the need to sell myself (as in, say, theatre – although i loved the idea of working in theatre and knew i’d be good at it, the cutthroat competition of it all kind of terrified me). of course now i realise that this is true for the actual production of the work but not so much for any other aspect of being a writer.

and it still upsets me that i haven’t been able to write for quite some time now – so even the production side of writing is eluding me. it might sound a bit like an excuse, as though i haven’t tried, but honestly i’ve tried. i can write in my journal, so that’s important, but as for creating anything new or saying anything interesting or being able to create out of what i’m going through (which used to be second nature)…i grind to a halt. i haven’t written anything longer than a couple of pages since i wrote my MA thesis, and certainly nothing that’s remotely polished enough to let anyone else read. it might sound like i’m being hard on myself, but it’s like i’m missing a limb or something – this used to be no effort at all and now it seems impossible.

it’s something i want to talk about with eri (the psychologist) but we’re still wading through a bunch of other stuff so i keep forgetting to bring it up. an hour goes very fast once you start talking! but then part of me wonders whether the writing will start to flow again when the muck of all this emotional debris gives way a bit more. it’s kind of a frustrating process, the counselling, because i know it’s helping but it’s also bringing up so much stuff that it feels like going backwards sometimes. as mum says, it’s probably a bit like lancing a boil, that you need to get all this awful stuff out before it can heal.

i’m starting to feel a bit more in control, and have some days that are less sad than others. i’m trying not to alienate people (and having limited success with that) but also trying to look after myself. i figure the people who love me will understand and let me get through it without dropping me because of erratic or irrational behaviour.

most of the time, all i want to do is sleep. 🙂