I shall regret this

Well, I said I wouldn't do it. But I have. Everything is piling up around me. My PGCE (yes, I am that insane) is trying to ruin my life and my social life (new man, new man!) is a little rocky. I promised I would take it easy on myself. As much as anyone can when entering the terrifying world if primary school teaching. I promised myself. I did.

And I broke that promise.

I agreed to do NaNoWriMo this November.

I will suffer.

I will probably fail.

But I will do it anyway.

Yellow Post It Notes

It's called a
Yellow Sticky
A yellow sticky
For our notes
We use them
For our shopping
Lists and put them
In our pockets
And take them
To Tesco, Asda
Or Town
But when ever
I use one to stick
On the wall
It always comes
Back down.

A glorious beginning.

Well, maybe not glorious. But a beginning nonetheless. I am Sibyl Harbinger – not my real name, of course, or I would be divorcing my parents with great enthusiasm and ceremony. No, I am in fact a lonely, miserable and hard-done-to writer and poet; never published and burning the candles all night long.

OK, so I am not really that lonely, and I am unpublished because I have never tried (or so I tell myself). I am not that hard-done-to. In fact I am quite happy with my life. I have a good social life. I eat well and I go out dancing regularly. I am up all night purely because I am busy watching CSI, Stargate or whatever series I happen to be in to at the time. I not an author, but I am a writer. A person who writes. I write more and more frequently, although not as often as I think I should. And most importantly, I enjoy it. So I am the proof that defies the rule that writers can't have a life.

Although I am the example that proves the rule that all writers are not quite sane. But I'll get into that at a later date.

I dream a lot. I write a lot. And I read a lot. So from here on in, I shall share some of that with you.

To a write moment. May it grow and grow.