For the first time I think, I am in a period of my life where there is no outer authority to whom I have to report. No teachers to submit work to, no employers to work for, no clients to serve. I am at the moment anyway, working only for myself and that is immensely freeing, and at the same time remarkably difficult.
In the past month I’ve accomplished quite a lot, and at the same time one of the things that I wanted to do most during this period, I’m finding the most difficult. That is writing my novel. I have successfully written everyday since I’ve been here, but often what I write is unsatisfactory, and it is almost always less than I feel I should be able.
I am undoubtedly encountering what Steven Pressfield, in his wonderful book, The War of Art, calls Resistance. I’m probably going to re-read that book, as it was one of the most inspirational works I’ve ever read and helped me to chase this dream of writing in the first place.