Things are not progressing as before. This time last year I was a different person altogether and if I reflect upon it, I can’t recognise the person I have become today. I thought it was supposed to be the person in the past you didn’t recognise?
Anyway. The last time I checked, I had about 6,000 words to go. I’ve not been using a word processor for about a week, writing intermittently when I’ve been able to, on paper instead. I can’t give an accurate account of how much is left to achieve which bothers me because my days are running out and I’m yet to edit any of it.
If I’m honest, the thought of going back over the fragments makes me want to smash my hard drive, soak it in acid and then burn it in rocket fuel. With my novel on it, unsaved anywhere.
Im still writing though, bits at a time.
Never in my life have I wanted to be rid of this bloody thing called writing. I think this is enough to give you an insight into my mental state.