The fantastic thing about writing is that it can be done from almost anywhere. Last fortnight my article was produced in a bach in Kaiteriteri; today it is born in the Hanmer Public Library.
Actually, it's born just outside the public library. Due to lack of seats, I was writing in the "Children's Area" which is apparently a "Computer-Free Zone" and thus I was asked to leave.
Funnily enough, it also appears to be a "Children-Free Zone" - there wasn't a kid in sight. Furthermore, does it also strike you as ironic that writing should be banned in a library?This afternoon was also reserved for doing a little research on my dissertation.
It wouldn't be surprising if this library also forbids research, however that would be hardly the first hurdle my project planning has faced. The top line of my current "to-do" list is written in red (as in, urgent): "Sort out dissertation." According to an article in Next magazine, the first task tackled on one's to-do list should be the most important task.
The remainder of my things to do, therefore, have been left unticked since November. (Alter dress. Renew passport. Finish the unfinished painting. Buy Liv's birthday present).
The trouble is not simply thinking of a thesis, but choosing a thesis which will engage me (and my supervisor) for an entire year. Reading dissertations from previous years hasn't helped at all; it's beyond me to make it past an abstract for boredom.
Within the first few paragraphs alone were far too many long, incomprehensible words. After consulting a dictionary, it became apparent that even the authors hardly understood the meaning of most of them.
A major dissertation prerequisite, therefore, is to: Make it interesting. Thankfully my genre is romantic literature, so an interesting topic should be easy to find. (I'm talking English romantic era, not Mills and Boon, so don't even think about sniggering).
Where to start? "Brainstorm" is apparently now an un-PC term; "thought-showers" are all the rage in visual planning.
Again, where to start? Something about the times; something about a theme; something about a poet; something about a poem; something about a line in a poem. Back then the world was smaller, you see, and poetry was bigger.
Speaking of small worlds, however, reminds me of my own.
Just the other day I discovered a year-old to-do list. It reads: Alter dress (not the aforementioned dress). Renew cycling licence (funnily enough, more expensive than renewing a passport). Finish the unfinished painting (a different painting). Buy Liv's birthday present (and that's how I know the list is a year old). If it wasn't for "sort out dissertation," I could be living on a merry-go-round.
Initially, such revelations can be disappointing. Has life really changed so little in a whole year? On the other hand, circularity demonstrates consistency, which is widely regarded as an admirable trait.
And anyway, many things which change or don't change in a year are hugely out of personal control. Liv will certainly turn one year older every year, and licences will always expire.
I must choose a topic soon, (just choose something!) or else my to-do list will never have the opportunity to change ...
Perhaps a certain blue and white dress will never be hemmed, and a pencil outline will be forever unfilled. Oh, it's beginning to rain. Drops are landing on the keyboard. The empty seats in the Children's Area are enticingly indoors.
"The fantastic thing about writing is that it can be done from almost anywhere." Wrong, so very wrong. It can't be done from the exposed brick back step of the Hanmer Public Library.
Surely the librarian doesn't know the drama she has caused; that's usually the way, isn't it? Conversely, she's probably unaware that she's just been milked for a few dozen words.
Oh well, if life gives you librarians ... At least you know you're not on a merry-go-round.
