There is nothing quite as satisfying after a long day of work as sitting back to write a badass action sequence for your favourite cult-busting journalist heroine. I like all my characters for different reasons – The Wanderer aside – but few are quite as fun top write for as her. No matter what gets thrown at her and how hard she falls, she always gets back up. I don’t feel as a writer I should be pushing my own wish fulfilment, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be more like her.
I worked through the weekend on various college tasks and commitments. I’m still buried under a mile-long queue but I think I can go in – not literally – tomorrow and present the big tasks with solutions. Lockdown has seen my mental health decline to lows I’ve not faced since the darkest days at Sussex University but I feel I can hold my head up. Or I could if my exercise routine wasn’t knackering my back. I need to take a rest day.
See, that’s the thing. With my writing I don’t take rest days. I don’t think I can handle routines that aren’t ‘daily’. I either do it each and every day, or I don’t do it at all. Work is a quasi-exception except I work through work problems and elearning ideas in my mind all the time, so go figure. Problem with exercising each day is twofold. First your body gets used to it and it stops burning off the fat, switching to carbs. And the second is it kills you. Just to be clear that second one is the problem.
A week tomorrow I move back to the flat. That is a strange, kind of unnerving thought. I don’t know if I should be happy, sad, or just numb. Think a lot of folks out there are numb right now and they’re going through a lot more than I am. We’ve all had to find our own mental space to cope with covid. I’m just glad I had my stories. Stay safe my imaginary readers.