Chocolate Dust

So this week I have been brainstorming and boy— I have to say it hurts a little. I am deep in preparation mode, searching, reading, scouring for details, taking photos and sticking them in my little notebook (the funnest part) all in the effort to develop my characters and plot for my murder mystery. I'm so excited about it.

I'm even more excited as I have signed up to do NaNoWriMo. The goal is to write 50,000 words in a month—pretty hefty—but I thought, what a great way to kick-start my new manuscript! The last one took me seven years to finish a final draft, so it might be a good way to become more efficient...

I know. I'm a little worried for me too. Going from seven years to a month, is a bit of a stretch—even for a professional—but for a novice like me, the outlook is a little grim. In other words, I am fairly destined to fail.

So why am I setting myself up for such a difficult task? Well there are a few reasons I think. Number one is that I am dreadfully anxious and ridiculously pre-occupied with the manuscript I submitted a couple of weeks ago. It was the one that lacked a fizzy celebration and part of me fears it is inevitably doomed for disaster. The weeks waiting until my greatest fears are confirmed—or not confirmed in the case that it is so terrible, I never hear back—seem to be dragging by at a snails pace.

It feels a little like doing time, or writing out a sentence. Oh, of course, I mean riding out a sentence. Fortunately I don't have much experience in that area; though I did teach violin in a converted jail-cell for three years. I've also been doing quite a lot of research into convicts and visiting our local female factory—there are some lovely flowers, though that is hardly the point I know.

Anyway, my second reason for inflicting upon myself this bizarre form of punishment, is that I am still feeling guilty about not working very many hours in a paid capacity. I decided, if I throw myself into writing and tried to be as productive as possible in this finite time of husbandly sponsorship, perhaps I wouldn't feel quite so bad about it?

In summation, it seems that yet again, anxiety and guilt are my motivations. Yes, they are back—although they never really left and you can probably tell that self-sabotage is hanging around too. So what is the solution?

Well, I really don't know. Agatha said she's had enough of me complaining, pleaded for a break and instructed me to watch my favourite Miss Marple episode—Sleeping Murder. I don't know why I love it so much; but I think it has something to do with the sea-side and the story of the Funny Bones. Also funnily enough, the Duchess of Malfi (appearing in that episode) has been popping about in my reading—and I do like to follow a random thread.

I discovered a quote that seems rather appropriate to the situation, confirming what I know to be true: I am responsible for how things turn out and my problem is of my own making. 'Whether we fall by ambition, blood or lust, like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust.'

'Dust anybody? No? Dust?' Margory from Fat Fighters tells me that it's 'very low in fat, so I can have as much as I like'. Well, that's lucky as I did happen to have desert for lunch today—a brownie with raspberry sorbet and it was covered in chocolate dust!

I guess in the end, the only person I am competing against is myself, so if I do happen to eat my own dust; at least it will taste like chocolate!