Having a bit of a downer at the minute. I’m not generally one to be depressed by world affairs but I spent some time over the weekend working on a session on the charity Water Aid for our 10-14 year olds at church and was just horrified at the scale of the problem. For instance, one child dies every fifteen seconds from the effects of water-born diseases or lack of sanitation. Half the population of Bangladesh (50% of 150 million) have no access to a proper toilet. Etc etc etc. Depressing.
And I started thinking insidious thoughts like why am I writing novels? How does that help the world? OK it might cheer up the odd person in the rich Northern Hemisphere but how am I making the world better for all those people we keep hearing about who live on less than a dollar a day? Can I do anything? Could I ever have done? Bit late to start regretting life choices etc but suddenly, just over the weekend, I kind of lost faith in what I’m doing with my life.
Any other writers out there suffer with the same kind of angst?
Oh and, by the way, if you have any spare pennies you were wondering what to do with, www.wateraid.org will take them off you happily. They also do that ‘buy a present for somebody and give it to somebody who really needs it’ thing. Like taps and well-digging kits and toilet covers.