Since my last post, I have written nothing. What happened? I believe this dramatic loss of discipline is because I have been in the company of others, whereas before, in Spain, I was primarily alone. It was at that time that I worked the hardest, my mind was clearest, and this fellowship felt the most like an adventure.
In other words, and this is on the incredible off-chance that a BU writing student reads this blog, I want to stress that the most important element of a successful Global Fellowship, and perhaps any sort of journey to a foreign place, is solitude.
I am in London now to see the girl who I have named previously, Claire, and to be in her company is a wonderful thing. But it has softened me. It has ruined the edge of my discontent, and so I do not feel compelled to write. I do not even feel much impetus to write this blog, truthfully.
Is it possible that unhappiness is a necessity for the successful artist? Or if not unhappiness, then at least the sense that something is missing? I believe it is for me.
This is all very trite stuff. What I'd like to do is write about what I saw in Prague and in London. But somehow I can not find the will. Maybe I will try to write another post soon.
For the last five days of my time abroad I will be in Dublin. I will be alone there. If all goes well I can at the very least make it to 30,000 words over the course of fifty days. Perhaps I have failed. But I do not feel like a failure. And that, ultimately, is the problem.
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