Book Struggle
Last year towards the end of September, I spent 10 days as Artist in Residence at the Wigtown Book Festival, where I took over 170 portraits of authors, visitors and residents of Wigtown.
At the beginning of June, I return there as part of Spring Fling – the annual Open Studio event across SW Scotland – and will be opening up “The Hut” again, so people can come and take a look at the photos and feel over 340 eyes staring at them as they do so.
One final aspect of the project still to complete is the book I intended to put together of the event – to include a bit of back story, anecdotes and all the portraits taken.
And at the moment, it’s this book that’s giving me the most grief.
Editing and arranging all the photos is time consuming and laborious, but it’s the writing I’m struggling with the most.
I thought it was going to be quite straightforward. I have a diary and blog posts written at the time. Surely all I had to do was gather them together, edit them, expand on a few bits and throw in a couple of stories about particular images.
But I keep getting swamped with the feeling of “so what?” over what I’m writing. Why would anyone be interested in what I have to say about this or that? Just because I did something or spoke to someone, doesn’t automatically make it an interesting read for anyone else.
Unless I can work my way through this, it might just end up as a picture book only.
At the beginning of June, I return there as part of Spring Fling – the annual Open Studio event across SW Scotland – and will be opening up “The Hut” again, so people can come and take a look at the photos and feel over 340 eyes staring at them as they do so.
One final aspect of the project still to complete is the book I intended to put together of the event – to include a bit of back story, anecdotes and all the portraits taken.
And at the moment, it’s this book that’s giving me the most grief.
Editing and arranging all the photos is time consuming and laborious, but it’s the writing I’m struggling with the most.
I thought it was going to be quite straightforward. I have a diary and blog posts written at the time. Surely all I had to do was gather them together, edit them, expand on a few bits and throw in a couple of stories about particular images.
But I keep getting swamped with the feeling of “so what?” over what I’m writing. Why would anyone be interested in what I have to say about this or that? Just because I did something or spoke to someone, doesn’t automatically make it an interesting read for anyone else.
Unless I can work my way through this, it might just end up as a picture book only.
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