Mist Hovers Around the Peaks

Amidst the ever-mounting compulsory reading I have for my course, which of course I can't complain about as I picked creative writing, I have decided to consider the possibility of writing for the National Novel Writing Month. It's a huge task, as I have a mound of coursework to do and reading to read and procrastinating to- you get the picture. It involves writing a novella, a short, 50k word story, within november, as the name implies, and I'm oddly excited about the prospect of it, although some have bet I do nothing.

Today I am very tired, I had very little sleep, and it seems like there is a cloud on my head, fogging up everything, covering it in a grey blanket. At times I employ wit, at others I sit staring into space trying to think what is wrong. It's probably my Dad, but I don't think it is. I'm hoping tomorrow that it will all be cleared, perhaps a journey to the gym and my energy will be over 9000 in no time. I had two lectures today, continuing my 100% attendance. Again, this is a record, 100% for the first 3 weeks. There is something depressing about that.

My fiction class was cancelled, and, in lieu of stumbling home and doing nothing, I chose to join the other class, which was about publishing, and had a nice feeling of fulfilment when it was over. I have had to think today about how I want to be published. The e-book is taking over, and many fear this, many fear the online medium, but as the average person reads 3 books per year, there's hardly a booming market for lovely smelling literature.

I would like to write two or three novels and some short stories. I like the idea of a stageplay, but the form on the page is so alien to me I feel incapable of being comfortable enough to enjoy writing a script. Maybe, hopefully, that will change.

Tomorrow, aside from the gym I intend to do work, to plough into that train in my mini cooper and hope to survive the impact. Or even make a connection.