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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