Beginnings and endings

Contrary to public opinion, you can see the sun now and again living in this insignificant green speck of land. This island that breaks the latest news from the Atlantic and passes its chill to every hunched shoulder in sight. As I stare at the sun two things become clear. A: I'm not imagining things and 2: I'm blind.

Imagination plays a part for all writers. Some more so than others. The temptation I find is that I imagine too much, get confused and wind up back where I started from. In writing I have so many ideas- as I suspect, most writers do- These ping around inside my skull, occassionaly finding an escape. I note them down. Some notes become longer, while others seem to vanish from the page as soon as I put them there.

So when does a note become The Note. The one that fires your imagination, that grips your mental lapels and shrieks- explore me! I've had a few of those. I am working on one at the moment. And every work I finish helps me further along the path of writing.
It is often said that in order to get good at anything you have to practice at least 10,000 hours. Let's say you can write one thousand words a day. An average novel is 75-90k. Three months to write a novel? Well for some yes, for others it takes longer. But if you spend 5 hours a day writing for three months you manage to , wait for it.... knock oout 450 hours from your grand 10k total. Now that puts it in perspective.
So imagination is good, but work ethic is just as good. Probably this is why an author's first work does not get published *grin*

I have set myself a work ethic for this year. I have a timetable and I have my notes to explore and, well, note down. Remember: No one, I repeat, no one, has ever been instantly good at anything. Writing, painting, music. All require diligence and practice. The only things that come free are disappointment and hope. The good thing is, hope can beat its stablemate in a stand up any day of the week. Though, disappointment packs quite a punch sometimes.

 So as the sun shines and the slurry stinks and my keyboard patters out insignificancies, so do the hours of my toil increase. But it is a pleasurable toil. One that breaks a man gently. Rather like a marriage.