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On Not Writing and Self Hatred

As banal as it sounds, I have honestly forgotten how hard writing can be. In all honesty, the past few months have been unduly harsh on my psyche and have seemed to see me far removed me from an emotionally connected self. This has left me wondering how I am meant to write about a character who comes to know her own desires in a world seemingly bent on humiliating her and stripping her of any agency when I refuse to even look at myself and consider what I want and what I am interested in (something my documentary lecturer, funnily enough, chastised me for in my last assignment). Recently I’ve been doing a lot of drawing and recording thoughts as they come to mind. Hopefully this will help reconnect me to my mind and a more honest interrogation of my feelings.

Part of these exercises was also creating ‘mood poems’ as abstractions of each act of the play. They are quite rough but I think they are letting me get closer to what it would feel like to live in the world of the characters I am creating. Rather than distract myself by reworking these drafts I think I’ll just post them and get on with things for once hey?

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