A writer's life for me

It’s been a little while – nearly two months, in fact – so, before I opened this fresh word document, I had a quick peek at the blog post I uploaded back in January. And I actually snorted. A derisory, judgemental, ‘Oh, you foolish child,’ kind of snort.  I will love my research, every day? What on earth was I thinking?  I lied, as it turns out. I haven’t loved my research how I promised to; in fact, if we were married, my research would probably have filed for divorce by now on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour, and I wouldn’t be able to dispute a damn word that my research said. My research would leave with half of everything – I’m a PhD student though, so my ‘everything’ isn’t exactly much – but my research and I would both know that, after the last two months, it really deserved more than half. Much, much more. That’s where we have been. And here’s what happened to get us to this point: I started writing my research paper. I wrote around 400 hundred words;