Never moving fast enough

I’m on a train, travelling from the family home in London to a party in York. It makes a delicious change from the Bristol – London commute and the journeys between those two cities and the middle of the country – Birmingham, Crewe and Manchester – that I’d grown so inredibly weary of while I was working for the bank.

This train is the express from London to Edinburgh, capital to capital, and it’s old and a bit tatty, but lusciously comfortable and understated. It also has free WiFi. Best of all, there’s hardly anyone on it, so I get to sprawl about and have an entire table to myself. Bliss.

What I should be doing, rather than updating LJ (though my LJ is sorely neglected and will have to have rust treatment soon if I don’t start caring for it better) is working on my 2008 NaNoWriMo project. It’s going slowly, but when I manage to get into it, it’s a lot of fun. It’s a post-apocalyptic journey narrative, centred on a young girl who’s trying to find ways to survive in an unfriendly world. There’s no great message, and I’m allowing myself to use every cliche ever invented. This is NaNo. That’s what NaNo’s all about. The terrific thing is that it’s allowing me to explore the world we’ve been building for my Great (ly Unrealistic) MMORPG project. I do find it harder to write without an emotional core to the work though. It’s hard for me to write from my head instead of my guts. Good practice though.

I just wish I could go faster. It seems that the more I write the slower I do it.

I thought that travelling less in the real world would allow me to travel further in my head. I’d be less tired, less stressed, there’d be room for my imagination to leap forth in all directions… instead I feel itchy, and that I need to be moving, moving, moving. I wish I had my own train, like the Queen. I could trundle up and down Britain, looking at fields go past the window, rolling along above all the stones and mud.