I’m taking a blog break to do another Project October. In place of my normal blog posts during July, I will be posting in nine parts a writing journal I completed as the major assessment piece of my final master’s subject called The Writerly Self.
This is Part 9.
3 May 2007
I’ve just been reading back over everything I’ve written in this journal and I’m not sure that it really demonstrates anything about my journey as a writer, except how haphazard and circuitous it is. Probably because I’ve never really thought of it as a journey. It’s not something I do. It’s who I am. That sounds exactly like the stupid platitudes that I hate to hear from other writers, but I don’t know how not to write. I don’t know why or how or when exactly I became so interested in it. I know it’s been a process of evolution. But I don’t really know much more than that. Which, I guess, is why I wanted to write that book about ‘Everything I Know About Writing’ as an exercise in humour, because really I don’t know that much, and if I do, it’s buried deep down inside me, able to be used but unable to be properly explained.
4 May 2007
Due date. It must be a bit like delivering a baby (not that I’d know) because at a crucial and horribly inappropriate moment, I’m suddenly struck with thoughts of not being good enough. How did I ever think I could be a writer? But there’s nothing I can do about it. I am a writer. Now I just have to wait and see if they tell me my baby has ten fingers, ten toes and is in perfect health or if there was nothing that could be done. Unsurprisingly, I’m praying for a big, happy, healthy family.