In homage to Morrissey, as he does seem to be everywhere on the (decent) music channels at the moment due to his really rather good new single, I thought I'd name this post. It does, however, sum up the way I feel at the moment. I decided to write one long essay for one of my current modules, electing to do 5000 words comparing two contemporary novel-to-television adaptations, and putting my own spin on the question by using Gormenghast and some hideous BBC (yes, dear reader, those two terms don't sit easily together in my head either) adaptation of Doyle's The Lost World. However, the problem is I really don't know where to start with it, and I'm putting my self under a lot of pressure to get it done as I've still got 3000 words on an essay that I've neither decided on, nor have much interest in, as the titles are a little dull. That's probably why I'm undecided about it come to think of it.
Anyway, I digress. The problem I seem to have got myself in is that I've got so much to write about, and so much I feel I should write about, I really don't know where to start. The only thing I'm sure of is that I need to start writing. However, paradoxically, I don't want to start writing as it's only going to confirm in me that I really don't know what my angle is yet. To make matters worse, I decided today that I should probably read the source books as well, meaning that I splashed out fifteen quid on the entire Gormenghast trilogy and have therefore created more work for myself. You see, dear reader, neurosis and fear of failure are not easy things to live with.
I'm also getting far too excited about both the launch of the new series of Who (on the 15th of this month, more on that next time) as well as my return to Devon next week for an old friend's birthday. In short, the time that I had clear to do some writing has become full with too many thoughts buzzing around my head. I hate this. I wish I could concentrate on the things that I should rather than the silliness in my head.