I’ve spent the week having a massive sort out of the flat. I needed to get rid of a lot of things – love letters, photos, books I didn’t actually like, why am I keeping those?
Among the things I got rid of was a huge pile of old notebooks. I’d resisted for ages as each one was supposed to be the start of a book. But honestly, most were just three lines, a vague idea and an occasional character name.
My reasoning was, if I’d wanted to write it, I’d’ve kept at it. I didn’t, so it can go. Now all I’m left with is the notebooks with ideas I’m actually interested it. If the few lines are any good, they’ll stay in my head and get recycled into something else (this has actually happened)
It’s very freeing. Not only do I now have a lot more space, but I am no longer bowed under the weight of all these stories I did not write, and feel I must.
Now if I keep a story going, I keep it. But if I give up after a page and never go back to it, it goes. I concentrate only on what I must.
Sent from my iPad