7 November 1921 – 13 November 1921

It is time I started a new journal. Come, my unseen, my unknown, let us talk together. Yes, for the last two weeks I have written scarcely anything. I have been idle ; I have failed. Why ? Many reasons. There has been a kind of confusion in my consciousness. It has seemed as though there was no time to write. The mornings, if they are sunny, are taken up with sun-treatment ; the post eats away the afternoon. And at night I am tired. ' But it all goes deeper.' Yes, you are right. I haven't been able to yield to the kind of contemplation that is necessary. I have not felt pure in heart, not humble, not good. There's been a stirring-up of sediment. I look at the mountains and I see nothing but moun- tains. Be frank ! I read rubbish. I give way about writ- ing letters. I mean I refuse to meet my obligations, and this of course weakens me in every way. Then I have broken my promise to review the books for The Nation. Another bad spot. Out of hand? Yes, that describes it — dissipated, vague, not positive, and above all, above everything, not working as I should be working — wasting time. Wasting time. The old cry — the first and last cry — Why do ye tarry? Ah, why indeed? My deepest de- sire is to be a writer, to have " a body of work " done. And there the work is, there the stories wait for me, grow tired, wilt, fade, because I will not come. And I hear and I acknowledge them, and still I go on sitting at the window, playing with the ball of wool. What is to be done? 199 = I must make another effort — at once. I must begin all over again. I must try and write simply, fully, freely, from my heart. Quietly, caring nothing for success or failure, but just going on. I must keep this book so that I have a record of what I do each week. (Here a word. As I re-read At the Bay in proof, it seemed to me flat, dull, and not a success at all. I was very much ashamed of it. I am.) But now to resolve ! And especially to keep in touch with Life — with the sky and this moon, these stars, these cold, candid peaks.