I know what I want to write ... BUT!!!

My writing process isn't a very organized thing~Chuck Palahniuck~

 There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewrite and bleed 

~Ernest Hemingway~

I cannot count the number of times I have sat in front of this computer's keyboard, with a number of academic papers scattered next to me, in folders, across the desk and on the floor with various notes in the margins; papers attached with further notes and a lot of thoughts swimming around in my mind and said … I know what I want to say BUT … ARGH!!!!

But wait Tara … Haven’t you done everything? Laid out a structure for the chapter, done all the reading, know what the major points are, who said them, who reiterated them, who disagreed with them, and what it is that needs to be said, what the story of your chapter is? So why in goodness name is nothing moving from your mind to the damn screen? I hate staring at a screen with no words on it… JUST WRITE!!! How many times have I heard that? … come on Tara you know what  you want… you KNOW IT … you have READ IT… you know your perspective, that is in your notes … SO WRITE THE DAMN THING!!! ARGH!!!! What’s the holdup … honestly?

There are some days that knowing the deadline you are working towards and the number of words you need to write per day to meet that deadline just do not help when nothing moves from mind to paper. This being a prime example, rather than writing my chapter, I had to take a few moments out to just get all of this negative energy and stuff that is stopping me … out!! But what exactly is it? I feel like I am fighting through a mire of my own making… It is just fear, I know that; I do not want to acknowledge it, but the overwhelming fear of not meeting the deadline, not writing what is important and missing something significant or just being substandard can be immobilizing. Sometimes even knowing what routine works for me and applying and/or just trying something different to see if that sparks anything are just not enough to get past the fear.

Well here I go again … off to the literature review (a couple thousand words yuh know) that scares the living daylights out of me. Let’s see if something that makes sense comes out this time. 

P.S... I don't drink coffee but everything else about this comic is pretty accurate. Yes I know ... how is it that I don't drink coffee?

A different point of view ... 11th July 2014

Foreword: I figured it was time you heard a different perspective. So ... today's guest blogger is Abigail, a wonderful young woman who I met through the Cavite Chorale (The UWI - Cave Hill Campus choral group) in Barbados who recently completed her MSc. Marketing Management and Strategy at the Plymouth University who I asked to give her perspective on studying in the UK. 

"FERNWEH" (n.) An ache for distant places; the craving for travel

11th July, 2014. That was the day. After immense contemplation and deliberation, I had finally decided. That was the day I would pick up my life to begin my adventure – my year-long European journey before heading back to Barbados. You see, I absolutely LOVE England and I was willing to do whatever it took to postpone my return to Barbados. I had convinced myself that the more I postponed my departure from England, the easier the trek home would be, the less I would miss England, the faster I would re-adjust to my not-so-missed island lifestyle. Most of all, I truly believed that in the time that I waited (lagged and delayed) I would receive a clear sign as to what my future had in store for me.

Apparently, international students usually have a love-hate relationship with England. Mine though, was a love-love-more-love relationship from the very start! Within weeks of applying to Plymouth University, I was accepted for my programme. I was awarded a part scholarship from the University towards my tuition fees. I was afforded the opportunity to work with the University's accommodation team and thus earned myself free accommodation and monthly pay. Thus, I required and was quickly able to secure minimal funding for the rest of my trip within a few weeks of my acceptance. Just like that - I had it in the bag.

Plymouth is about a 5 hour drive away from London - which was the only bummer. However, it truly is a self-sufficient little city, and I rarely ever needed to make the trek to London. I really liked my programme; my flat was beyond decent and my flatmates were God sent. I didn't have many friends, but a solid few were all I needed. It was cold and rainy most days (cold and slightly sunny on others) but I adjusted quickly, grabbing the opportunity to embrace as many fancy coats and knee high boots as I could lay my hands on. This cold, grey country sucked me in and seduced me all at once.

I often indulged in long walks along the waterfront, and I stared at the gorgeous old buildings for hours. Late night movies and a bottle of wine with my flatmates were a monthly must. All-you-can-eat Chinese buffets were sinfully delicious and ridiculously affordable, not to mention the corner kebab shops especially when I had the midnight munchies. Old castles, theatre shows, the malls, the sales…the sales … the sales! The pubs (OMG ... the pubs!!), live music, summer barbeques, restaurants, clubs, parties, pre-drink before the parties…and more parties. UGH… I did not want to leave!

It was 11th July, and I waited for my flight alone at the airport. I just had to accept that I had travelled to England on a mission which I had accomplished to the best of my ability. It was time to return home. "At least you'll have the beach…", I thought to myself, wiping away the last of my tears. I just had to believe there was something bigger and better in store for me… and truly, there was. Within the first week of my return to Barbados, I was interviewed by one of the largest distribution firms on the island and shortly after was hired as a Brand Manager for a major account. A little intimidating, I'll admit, but more than enough Band-Aid for my British blues!

I miss the cold days. I've never been happier or felt more liberated than on days that I walked home by myself. Nowhere to be, no one to answer to, just me walking home alone. A chunk of my heart will forever remain in England, but I think that's a fair price to pay for that 'once in a lifetime' kinda experience.