so, naturally, I’m writing a blog post. It’s called procrastination. Don’t pretend you don’t do it – I know you do – everyone does.
Speaking of, my twitter updates have really taken off since I signed up. I just need to fill up the remaining minutes before my bedtime (or until I’m too tired to possibly write) and viola! I won’t have to.
Just so you know, I have decided to post once a week, on Sundays, so don’t go expecting more than that just because you’re getting a special extra one, today. This is procrastination, that’s all.
Having said that, it might be fun to record the best excuses I come up with to not write. The current one is obvious: I need to write a blog post about this. Even though I published one yesterday. I’m also thinking I should really wash my hair – it’s pretty greasy. And I really should get an early night. In fact, I might just go to bed now, I’m that tired. Couldn’t possibly stay awake for half an hour to write (but I could stay awake half an hour to do pretty much anything else. That’s an obvious exaggeration – there are many things I wouldn’t stay awake half an hour for: skinning a rabbit; sky-diving; dyeing my hair black to name just three. I wonder how much time I can waste writing this what-must-be-AWFUL blog post and ruining whatever good I did with yesterday’s planned and thought-out one. A lot, probably.)
And just like that I’m out of steam.
Oh wait, one more thing: the ridiculously long word goal. No, I’m not planning on submitting a 300,000 word novel. Will it even be that long in this draft? I hope not because that would take forever to write. Well, 300 good days. It’s just…I had to guess based on something and it turns out 30,000 words later I’m one tenth of the way through the vague plan, so, you know, it makes sense to times that by ten and come up with a number. And yes, I am planning on cutting a lot of that 30,000, and indeed whatever I write after. It’s all pretty crap. And dull, which is probably why I don’t want to write it, but you know what? someone has to. All those lovely books didn’t come out lovely, they came out as pages and pages and pages of pointless drivel that someone had to write and then delete. That’s just how it works. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s to keep us writers on our toes. Maybe it’s to make it more rewarding when you do boil it down from watery blrgh to a delicious something.
Wow, I’m tired. Some say that’s a good thing – you’re more in touch with your subconscious and imagination and ‘the dreamland’ but I just end up rambling nonsense. As you can see.