Writing about Writing about Writing

Before I ever wrote, I thought writers magically pulled books out of their brains for me to read. They were inspired by their muses to delight and entertain. They were mystics for our age. Then I started writing. I knew it wasn’t true. Yes, writing is an art, but it is also a craft, with practicalities and technicalities and other –alities.
   It was when I started writing that I wanted to know how writers wrote. Not the nonsense about their muses, but the when, where, how, whys. I tried ideas, I stole suggestions, I ate words. Nine years later I am still working out what works.
   Now I have to explain how I do it. As part of our MA submissions we write rationales. These are companions to the creative works. I can understand from an academic perspective that they are essential. They prove reflection, they talk through decision-making, influence, inspiration, dafting, I mean drafting and re-dafting, I mean re-drafting.
   But bloody hell, they’re exhausting! I was angry with myself yesterday for not getting much more than 500 words down. Today I have realised I can’t rush a rationale. It has to be carefully considered, it has to be carefully referenced. It has to be interesting enough to read.
   My previous rationales have been theoretical, clever, even creative. This one is currently nuts-and-bolts honest. I’m not sure where that will leave me marks-wise. I’m trying desperately not to care about marks. But for a short-term short short-storiest to take on the novel, now that is a challenge. It was one of the reasons for MAing, to force myself into that most frightening form. My rationale focuses on how I made the leap in scale.
   The dissertation is the first 20,000 words. The novel will be the progeny of the MA. My plan is to tout it at next year’s Winchester Writer’s Festival. And at that stage there will be no requirement to rationalise. If anyone asks I will say the story fell, fully-formed into my head when I bashed into a lamppost.