Day 53

14:30

Well, I set my alarm, but I have no idea what happened to it. Getting up earlier than 1pm for more than a couple of days at a time is turning out to be extremely difficult.

Feel slightly less miserable and sorry for myself today. I guess there are peaks and troughs: I guess I'm finally coming out of the worst part of the trough.

For the first time last night, I thought maybe that this unhappiness and inability to move forwards - or the inability to feel I was moving forwards - might be my first conscious experience of what they call "writer's block".

I always thought "writer's block" was a bunch of bullshit: because I've never experienced anything like it; and because the only time you ever hear the phrase is on movies and T.V. when someone like Billy Crystal stares can't think of anything to write - not even a single word - because his heart had been broken by some bitch and he normally expresses his inability to write by throwing his typewriter out of the window. Then someone teaches him to love again: suddenly he's a best-selling novelist and the movie ends. "Writer's block" always sounded like an excuse for moping and being lazy, which are two things I've never needed any excuse to participate in.

But - what if "writer's block" or whatever you want to call it, can be a mental state that affects you rather than your ability to work? What if, rather than a complete stop in writing output - it's a sudden lack of joy with what you're doing, and an unshakeable feeling that your writing - which is of exactly the same quality as what you've been doing before - is suddenly so worthless and inconsequential that your whole project - and your dreams along with them - should be abandoned?

That's how it's been feeling to me the last week - I haven't written nearly as much as I have been - but I've still managed about thirty pages of screenplay, plus the beginnings of ideas for a new project. It's not very much - but it's more than the absolute zero I feel I've been writing and struggling through. We all have our different inspirations and obstacles - but I think that my own sometimes-depressive nature has found its own version of this "writer's block" which sours the creative process, giving me the illusion that nothing I do can ever be good enough, or can be completed.

It's good to think that this new experience might just be part of a cycle - that it's just another obstacle that will come and go. We'll see what happens today: whether I'm able to get the smallest bit back on track.

02:30

Only done a couple of hours writing: been watching the Oscars streaming on the internet. After all, it only happens once a year. Bummed for Claudio Miranda - he deserved the cinematography award more than Slumdog Millionaire guy. As did Eric Roth over Simon Beaufoy. Why do all British people who win awards at the Oscars sound like such smug twats?

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. Hugh Jackman has started singing and dancing with Beyonce. I just puked in my mouth. Then I broke seven toes from over-curling them. Your career is never going to recover from this. 'The Musical is Back!' Hugh Jackman shouts, in an attempt to make half a billion men around the world have their penises involuntarily retract into their bodies.

I'd rather Ben Stiller did the whole of the show in his Joaquin Phoenix persona than this dude. It's like they spliced together the Oscars with the sheer, untamed horrors of Mama Mia.

05:00

Saw the rest of the Oscars. Thought Danny Boyle and Sean Penn's speeches were actually really good, even though I wasn't rooting for them.

Now it's very late and I haven't achieved what I set out to, yet again.

No point crying over spilt milk. Will do another 15 minutes to round off my writing to a pitiful 2 hours, then go to bed.

word count: 1,018
hours writing: 2.5