I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I’ve always wanted to be able to get to the top of a set of stairs without being out of breath. Both of these, on particular days, can end up as problematic.

Athletic ability, in the last six months, has begun to show significant improvement. Having exchanged five kilos of fat for muscle since August, all the right boxes are being ticked, but there remains that same struggle when initially warming up. It is exactly the same issue encountered on any upward flight of steps in the morning or the first five minutes walk on a cold day. My lungs, like it or not, react badly in certain conditions. It’s been that way since I was a child.

It was this that prompted the family doctor, back in my early teens, to tell me in no uncertain terms that if I started smoking, it would kill me. It wouldn’t be the accumulation of bad shit in my body that would do the damage, but that one morning where lungs went into spasm and I effectively choked to death thanks to an inability to just do what everybody else manages as normal. Those lung spasms still happen, but with decreasing frequency, constant beat that reminds me not to get complacent.

Then, there’s everybody and my family’s assertion that being a writer is a mug’s game, despite the fact I was paid to do it for a number of years as proof that yes, I’m capable. ‘What if nobody publishes your stuff?’ is no longer an issue (see Thursday’s blog post) but an initial justification will never remain sufficient to satisfy a voracious appetite for originality, and as I’m learning pretty much daily how to be a better writer, that process is never ending.

What happens next? Well, that’s a very good question, and one that’s not being readily answered as I type this blog post. There’s a lot of stuff I’d like to do, some things that remain a priority, and others that have become habit. As to how all that fits into the wider picture… there is a plan. Stuff will be taken away. Nothing is going to be added, but focus will be subtly redefined. For now, everything on the wall gets me into the first two weeks in January. After that, it is time for a new plan.


None of this is smoke and mirrors, because I’d choke on one and probably break the other. I don’t need magic, just hard work.

Time to make things happen.

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