It’s that time of the year when I pull out the novel and dust it off to have a look at it. Nothing changes – only the season through which I view it and it’s limitations. There are times when I’m in love with the novel and writing in general and other times when it appears to be a complete waste of time. This realisation along with the general ennui that usually trundles in half way through a period of creativity is why I am surrounded by half finished works of disputable genius.
Next thought is that I should abandon the novel and make it an autobiography. Would be easier to write it for sure. Still not convinced I’d finish it though. Is it betters to try and fail or never try at all? And is half finished failure or just experimentation on the path to success?
It’s healthy to try, to experiment and to dream. Perhaps to get too hung up on completing things is just our parents talking. Pressure off. Enjoy it for what it is – the process of doing things you enjoy.
I did get a frisson of that feeling last night. I am thinking more deeply about things and code and designs. I can see the projection of my dream and will not compromise on the idea. That in itself brings a pleasurable feeling that no matter how long it takes – even if it never happens – for this activity or period of my life there will be no compromise.
