The Rediscovery of the Self In Relation to the Wider Community of Bloggers, or Oops

To anybody who may be following,


I have been away for the last nine-tenths of a year, so it seems. Neglect is the word that would be on most people's lips, and it is certainly the word on mine. I have been tangled up with the workings of university life and work to the extent that I have completely ignored the fact that I had started a blog. Like everything we resolve to do, like diet, or try something new, or read the greatest works of literature, there are moments where we think - you know what, that little blog post can wait - and we put it off until we do something amazing.

So... nine months later.

To anybody reading now, you haven't missed much in terms of blogging. This is it, really. Beginning anew and afresh.

To anybody who found this page before, and is returning, my life has been full of little changes here and there. I have handed in a large number of portfolios to be marked by the academia of the University of Warwick. Some tutors have said they loved my pieces and marked me down; others have written that they have absolutely no clue what I'm trying to do and push up my marks to a first class degree. Not the most confusing element of my life, but I would certainly like to know whether I should try harder or take a breather. And the scientists and mathematicians think that the art student's life is full of coffee and walks in the park...

I am free from campus life now. My dearest friends are now spread around the world, as far as Singapore, India and Wales. Now I am back in the country with my family, I long for the hectic pace of Warwick and Coventry even more. I miss the kind of day when, stressed out from trying to shoehorn plot into my slice-of-life long project (now done, dusted, and twenty-thousand-wordsed), I could walk into Costas and order myself a flat white. I could pretend to write in my journal or read my shiny new Kindle and become privy to the pulsing life of campus dwellers. Then I would see the people I know come into view and we would talk about everything (of which there is so little) and nothing (of which there is way too much).

Of course, I shouldn't complain about life as it is now. My prison - a house with my well meaning but ever present family - is a prison made of glass, and one I can leave whenever the feeling takes me. There is a Costa in the town I live in, where I can order my flat white. Unfortunately, I can no longer hear the chatter of students, and babies and mothers make up the babble that I hear now. Still, the stability of life is an illusion, and adapting to the little changes are what makes human experience such a varied thing. I shall attempt to make it more varied over the coming days, and rely upon my friends and family to make the coming year more interesting than before.

To Do List:

Finish Current Short Story [Two to Go, a story of the life impaired, coffee and being human.]

Repurpose Old Short Story [The Tescoliad, a mock-epic of two thousand words. Re-write for the discerning reader, and post as part of my first venture onto the Kindle Store.]

Plan about Five Other Short Stories [Because my brain always furnishes me with short story ideas when I want to get working on my Great Fantasic Novel]

Prep for NaNoWriMo [Because I never do. This time I will reach the fifty thousand mark!]


So here we go. Once more. One more try. It is a nasty blog, but I intend to keep it and fill it with my life. Every other blogger can - or maybe should - and I am found wanting. No more thought about writing, and more actual writing.

[Before I become completely incoherent, I'll stop here. Stopping here. Seriously. Now.]

Christmas days are rolling on...

Currently sitting on the top floor of the University library. Anna is working through Locke's writings, while Angela reading through yet another book that claims to explain Blake's poems on the Zoas [unknown whether this one is better than the others. Sitting in the Quiet Zone, so no dialogue and no texting. Shall find out at lunch.]
   As for me, I'm wading through my commentary for my Term One Portfolio. Thanks to the helpful comments of my seminar tutor, I know what I'm supposed to be doing. Only difficulty is working out  how to achieve it. It would be so difficult if there wasn't the issue of the word count to deal with as well. Luckily, I will not be having trouble meeting the two thousand word count required; unluckily, one thousand of those has been dedicated to the first story already, leaving around five hundred words each for the remaining two stories. Such joy... When I finish, I will be in need of a literary chainsaw and a much needed caffeine injection.
   Also, my story for this year's MA anthology is coming along nicely, if rather slowly and frustratingly. I know that I'm on to something unusual, but it feels as if I have to bludgeon this story rather viciously before it will see the light of day.
   More updates when something wonderful occurs...
   Golden Mallet.

Beginning of Failure

Hello, good evening, and kudos to those that recognise the reference.
This marks the beginning of my blog, as I try to become writer and generally not fail at life. Currently studying at Warwick University, trying to get my MA qualification in Writing. At the moment, I'm doing well: I'm surrounded by a great number of supportive people, including my comrades of the Warwick MA class and my housemates Angela and Anna. I suppose I should also mention my family, but I think they already know how much they contribute to my writing.
   My posts will no doubt be small, but I hope to submit many over the next year. Maybe something fantastic shall happen in 2011, or maybe it has already begun... No matter what, I'll make it a year to remember!

 To the next year,
      Golden Mallet