... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Monday, November 07, 2011

447: white screen

Aww hell, writing a novel is hard, and sort of insane. If I wasn't writing a novel the ideas I am coming up with would leave me a jibbering wreck, eating flies and crying for my Lord and Master to come and take me away. One crazy idea, be it plot point or character trait, just leads me down and down into the crazy fictional world of my own creation. Today's writing session has been particularly enjoyable; I have created my own wacky alternative therapy system, which of course is trademarked, and written some fine scientific sounding prose to sell it to the health conscious with money falling out of their pockets and brain cells dribbling out of their ears. Shame it's not real as it's the sort of out there nonsense that would make me millions and grant me the arrogance to call myself Doctor, armed only with a publicist, a phalanx of lawyers and a mail order doctorate from an unaccredited American online college.

I still have just over 40,000 words to go; just keep writing, just keep writing, just keep necking coffee and sleeping 30 minutes a day, and taking notes on the walls and toilet paper and my shirt cuffs and my partner's sleeping face, and talking to myself openly on the bus...

There seems to be a general air of sleepy headache-iness permeating the air, affecting myself and my partner. Concerned friends and family: it's not carbon monoxide poisoning, we have a new alarm which remains comfortably quite, as the battery-working button beeps every 45 seconds. I put it down to all the hard work during the day, and the staring at a white computer screen in the evening. For that reason I think it's about time I stopped and had an early night. Bye.

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