At the end of the year, I’m going to read all this year’s blogs – a year’s worth in one sitting. With lots of coffee and tissues. Until then, I’m not touching them. As we’re getting closer, today touching the first of September, this plan is starting to give me the heebies.

Why? I’m worried I’ll have entries which make me wince. Perhaps a lot. What the hell was I thinking when I wrote that, I’ll think? Why can’t I explain a story properly – and with less words? Other entries will bore me. This is as good as it gets? Never mind living your best life, how about just not farting along the boggy bottom? Some I expect will confuse me too. A ex-boyfriend once said to me, ‘Have you ever noticed how whiney you sound?.’ We didn’t work out either.

Some blogs will bring back events I’ll have completely forgotten. I’m looking forward to these ones. Proverbial little things which make up a life. I’ll be grateful I wrote them down – even though it was late and I missed two hours of sleep that night and every other night this year. Tbat’s the main thing I’ve learned so far – writing consistently is hard. Everyday you have to stop what you’re doing to do it, often when you’re enjoying yourself. For example, sleeping. I love sleeping. I do love writing too, ok, whiney voice accusing ex-boyfriend, but it is hard.

The boring blog entry, the uncomfortable reveal, disagreeing with something I believed six months ago which I don’t believe anymore. A lack of sensitivity for the sake of a story. Ouch. Well, I still did it. I wrote my life down in 500 words a day. Why 500? Because I once heard author V.S. Naipaul’s dad told his son to. He said something along the lines that, ‘If you can write 500 words a day son, you’ll be ok. You don’t need to do anything more than that to become a good writer.’

I took the book I heard this passage out from the library recently. Letters Between a Father and Son. I wanted to read these words again. It was a moving and raw book at times. Do you think I could find this quote though? Admittedly, I didn’t look too hard. I was too busy writing! Still, this book of letters between V.S. Naipaul and his dad has a sense of yearning. Sadness even. It’s stayed with me since. Filled a space in my heart.

Last point before I go: dialogue. I know I’ll wish I put more dialogue in my blogs. During my incomplete Masters in Creative Writing (I’m so shallow, I gave up just before the poetry module started), I learned that dialogue reads about 20% faster than descriptive text. This is because our brains are wired to more easily process speech. It was an aha moment. I always intend to put in more dialogue – mostly of our bickering family. I’ve found it hard to do in practice. What’s so hard? Remembering it, duh.