Well, The blog has been up for the best part of two months (I think, I can't be bothered to check), and I've tried to be quite regular in my updating, but it's very hard to keep to. This is not particularly due to time constraints (my early morning writing sessions are becoming quite a habit, though getting up at half four is a lot less fun now it is so very dark), but more to do with the fact that I fear that I will have nothing interesting to say. I have a lot less issue with people reading my fiction than actually having to describe it. Writing a synopsis for the Harper Voyager submission was an acute torture and I felt embarressed with every word. My greatest worry is appearing childish. Are my ideas juvenile for my age? The Dr Who poster I have put up in my makeshift study could suggest that... but I like to think I have a reasonable maturity in most areas of my life. I've recently had a look around some others blogs and seen people younger than me wrapping words into meanings that I would never think of, clearly fans of literary fiction. I remember being bamboozled by such books at university, trying hard to find some sort of enjoyment in them. I can see the skill certainly, but the books I have enjoyed the most have strong and interesting ideas well conveyed. I will just have to hope that my writing style develops over the years to such a level where I can convey some good ideas in a fairly skillful way.
No Hundred Years of Solitude here!