Decision

This account has just entered its 10th year, proof to myself that I can keep a journal going, albeit sporadically. I started it to get myself writing anything onto a blank screen without thinking of the audience at the other end. it's aim was to be public, yet as authentic as possible when engaged in the artifice of writing, and not to care really whether it was good writing, just to write. It resulted in my book, so making this journal friends only may be counterproductive.

But I feel the need for privacy. It is silly , but not something I can help right now. Yesterday, there was an unauthorised attempt from god knows who to get into my email account. The IP address was in Des Moines Iowa, of all places. What on earth is all that about?

There were people I once dreaded reading my words...not an issue now. It's for other reasons I close the gates. For a while this journal will be friends only; it has been pretty much the case over the last few months, but if there is anyone out there who wants to continue reading and isn't on my friends list, leave a message or write to me privately.

Edited to add: 31st July 2013, I am not making this private anymore. Some things will continue to be, others will be friends only, but the default setting goes back to public, simply to mark an ending.

Summer sleeps, Autumn wakes.

I'm waking up.

It feels like a long time since I wrote and I have grown bad at it.

One thing I liked, my agent wasn't so sure of, haven't looked at it since. Maybe I should, there's a lot of text there to just throw away.

I tried to write something fairy recently. It's rubbish, stilted, cold, has one excellent part to it, and the rest just doesn't quite gel.

Now I have another great idea, but that's all it is, a seed. I try writing it, it is hard because the genre isn't natural to me. But it is an interesting controversial premis... I find myself facing the gruesome task of creating a plot arc before I write, because this will not write itself. This will be hard, unlike a stream of consciousness piece that just came to me, which did write itself and, though it needs editing, is much more my style, strange, intricate, mythical. But what is it exactly? I don't know. I never seem to know.

So what do I do now? The good news is that I am waking again as a writer. The rest is a porridge of chaos.