The Beginning

The beginning of a new story, though an exciting time, is also a crucial one. With the first line you hook the reader's attention, you touch the reader, tickle their curiosity. If the first line of your story hits the reader in a way that intrigues them, the chance of them buying the book greatly improves. No one I know buys books purely for the blurb anymore; I know I'm more likely to read the first page to see if it is opened well enough to make me want to read on, and if it is? Well, I search for it on amazon.

At the moment, as you may know, I am supposed to be writing my FYP or beginning to. The beginning has already been written, it's true, and along with it, about an eighth of my word count. But I still feel as if I am too unstructured to write more at the moment, yet I lack the motivation to do anything to resolve that. I do want to work on it, I'd just rather sit here and do nothing for a little while longer. And then, of course, the day is gone before I know that's happened.

About two years ago I hit a peak in my writing, and since then I've been pretty-much blocked. I hope I get unblocked soon. I do, naturally, secretly fear that serious writing is now beyond my ability. I loved it, and I do still, and I don't know where I'd go without it.

For some time I have been sitting here staring at a blank page. I've wanted to write for months, but have suppressed it to try and get it to build. I feel the words pushing, trying to get free, the meanings behind ideas squirming with anticipation, but nothing comes when I stare at the paper. The blank page is truly the most deadly thing for a writer. I'm sat listening to Einaudi in the hope that it'll inspire me, but all I feel right now is bottled up emotions and lonely lingering characters forming in the corners of my vision.

It's frustrating.