Why write about writing? Why that - the pause, the hesitation in a step that does not allow writing to complete itself as writing? I think of James Wood's impatient aside in his appreciation of The Waves: the book, he says 'is too often tediously involved in its own procedures (almost every character has something to say about the difficulty of language)'.
An aside and nothing more - but why does it come to me that The Waves is a book where the notion of character wears wonderfully thin, that beneath each supposed narrator there is another kind of narration, a narrative voice that seems to expose itself only in its final pages, in the great hymn that ends in 'O death!', and that that is the point: character has worn too thin as character, and each in turn is a way language, streaming without centre, has folded itself in order to speak (to write) with a human voice?