Every word I’ve written has taken the slaying of a dragon to get to the page. The dragon is my resistance to writing that rears its ugly head each and every time I try to fool myself that I can write, or that I should write instead of the multitude of other tasks that lie undone. I don’t know what it’s like for other writers, how many face this resistance, but I know there’s a few of us.
I’m always left asking myself, Why do I want to do this if my inner self is always shouting, No? What makes me wake up at an ungodly hour, or shun social events, phone calls; so I can write, push against this resistance? If only I was at the gym, I’d be looking great by now. [Read more…]