Am I being true to myself? I mean really and truly, brutally honest or just pretending to be, even within these pages, and the others. Am I writing for myself or for the chance that someday, someone might read them? The only likely person to that, would be myself. Or M and B when I’m long gone. Maybe that’s what it is for. They have a book of their own, and there will be more in there in the future no doubt.
Is it about increasing my skills or habits, tapping into my own mind, or subconscious even? Or for the pure vanity exercise of ‘yes I’m a writer you know’ with added appalling accent? Don’t get me wrong I’d love to make a living from this desk, but is that even enough? What then is this all even for? Am I really bettering myself in page after page, or have I exhausted this particular interest? Do I need to be re-energised into it, as no doubt anyone else would, feeling quite as flat as we do at the moment? It is a struggle to keep going, and this is without me even going into work! It is likely I’ll need another week off if BB is going to get the chicken pox as well. It seems so. This isn’t what this book is even for.