I've just found myself writing the end of my novel. I'm not near-finished, I just realised that I wanted that put in the end, so I've been decided what to do with certain characters and where to place them, quite surreal that I'm writing the end of it though. But this novel is more trouble than it's probably worth. It's already had the longest workshop discussion in class, going onto the next day by email, with one person threatening to quit, and then me discussing my 'future' on the course with my tutor because not only can I no longer afford to pay for it, but I just don't want to anymore. I'm only staying for my friends there, whom my tutor told me are my sense of security and protection, which made me feel quiet good, because they are, and I'd been in a pretty bad way recently, and being in that class with someone was hard for me, though I was still able to bite my lip and carry on and then pitch my novel idea to an editor as part of my assessment.
Certain things have made the class fall apart. People turning against each other in a mad wave of hysterical depressions that overwhelm us all, and three of us laughing our heads off at the mere thought of letting those things break us down, because we can write well and if either of us leave then there's less hope.
I stopped being sad but then returned to it when I think back. It was a tough week. Quite pathetic really, but that's why I don't talk about it, and got on at work, and stopped lying around. I know I have friends I can trust as well as people I no longer trust, which hurts, and there's nothing I can do about that.
My Website: http://www.student.ljmu.ac.uk/mcamholl/