Moving House and Hardly Moving.

The last few days have been stressful af. Packing, moving, driving around (okay, that part I like), headaches, back aches and pulled muscles (not mine). I am currently sitting on my friends bed as I write this because since Friday at 10 am until tomorrow at 10 am I have no where to live. Most of my stuff is in storage, the rest of it is in my bosses van (Shout out to Great Shakes) bar a couple bags I have here. Which is literally underwear and writing books.

One thing that has come out of this bizarre weekend though is that I have rekindled my love of writing poetry. Well I always like it while I’m doing it and editing, but then once thats done I kind of just put it away and focus on longer formats, and then the motivation is gone to write more for a few weeks. Which is silly because it’s the format I’m most successful in. But Bec leant me a couple of poetry books by R.H. Sin, and I really got into them, so much so that I read them both during this house move which is crazy because I haven’t even had time to breath properly. It reminded me of the writing zine I started last summer, I planned it to go live when I got back from France in September, but my Masters course hit me like a train and thus it, like most of my poetry, got put in a draw and forgotten about. So now, after actual work, and finishing off the second short script, I am spending the evening restarting that project and getting that ball rolling again. The main goal was to collect bits of writing from people who weren’t published yet and get them published in a collective so that they could add it to their portfolio and hopefully get an agent. But not just in poetry or prose, but like scripts and radio plays and creative non-fic too which is something I don’t very often see (it’s probably out there, having said that). So that’s very exciting, watch this space.

In other news my tutor liked my ‘Fog…” script! There are notes and constructive criticism that I will be taking on board when I get round to editing it, but until then I am just listening to the compliments and boosting my ego, because every writer needs that to fight off imposter syndrome.

Following my philosophical blog post last week (or the week before maybe??) about protagonists and such, I ransacked the uni library and found the entire works of Plato, which I aim to at least skim read. I found that whole thing so fascinating in “Sophie’s World” that I thought I’d look more into it and make use of the library resources while I still have access to it. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I leave uni and can’t go there any more to find books. I honestly have about 30 on loan at the moment. It’s less of a pile now and more reminiscent of a room divider. I spent about an hour dancing round the library after work listening to Ariana Grande and searching for books by creatives about their craft.

And now I should stop talking about doing work, and actually do some work.
Don’t tread of the flowers,

F x




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