A good friend of mine who has taste I trust read the beginning of the fiction I’ve been writing. They liked it a lot. Another friend who has taste I trust, though not necessarily with regards to literature, said they liked it too. The trick about positive feedback is stuffing it into your gas tank, instead of your pillow. It has got to inspire and push you, encourage you when you’re down and feeling lazy, instead of acting as a comfy little laurel.

I’m not great at it, having written seldom apart from text based role play for the past five or six years. Even with immense positivity about my writing, I let that make me lazy, instead of impassioned.

It’d be a fine thing to have written this draft. I fantasize about it being published and changing my fortunes, but really, just finishing it would be enough I think. I’d have written the draft and I could read it to my children, though it’s not a book for children. So maybe they could read it themselves as adults. The main characters have stand in names of my child, and of the name we’ve reserved for her first sibling, if they’re a girl. I don’t know if that’ll be charming or tiring by the time they read it, if they ever do, if I ever finish it.

Great Lent is usually a time of giving things up, and it starts today.

I’ve got stuff I’ll be giving up, sure, but I wonder if part of that could be my evenings of leisure, turning them into a time of work. My writing is worse in the night time. I write all my fiction in the morning while walking, and I write this blog at night, sorry.

I’m writing this one in the morning because I have some time in the back of the car, so that’s alright. Maybe it improves it.

Anyways, writing isn’t easy. I’m always full of excuses.

I’ll often forget about it until there’s not to do but feel bad about the missed opportunities.

Had I written each morning for the past week I’d have loads done! Instead I haven’t, and I don’t.

I suppose a lot of sin is that way.

I’ll go on walks and write more these next weeks.

Yessir.