Thursday, February 19, 2015


I don't even have the time to write this post, but here I am, writing.

I'm so tired.  

I got some marks back from the MA course this week.  I got a 64 for my very first assignment, and 68 for my manuscript assignment.  My tutor told me I should be working harder to reach the coveted Distinction grade.  

I nodded, and agreed.

I should feel proud/happy but I don't.  

It's ridiculous; if I had got grades like that for 'Real Uni' I'd be over the moon.

But I feel a bit glib about the MA marks, because I rarely doubt my ability, which I find ever so sickening.  And it's not like I think I'm this amazing writer, but it's just that there's never a doubt in my head that I can't write.  Even when I rant and write, when will it be my turn? my time?  I continue to write, and I've always written, regardless of my mental state or the status of my existence, writing is just what I do.

But something in me wonders, even if I did get a Distinction.  Would I be a successful writer?  

But anyway, onwards.  

I don't really feel like going on too much so I'll leave it there I think.


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