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

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

I just sat down to write this and the first thing I did before my fingers touched the keyboard was let out a massive sigh. I'm back here on the ol' blog for lack of movement in the novel. Stuck at about the halfway point with the feeling of, well of being stuck. Distracted myself by deciding I would be better of writing a sci-fi comic/novel/recipe book and trying to fund production of it through kickstarter. Drew some characters. Spent some time vaguely thinking about a plot. There's the nugget of a good idea in there somewhere but instead I have, wisely I think, deposited on the 'LATER' pile.

I put the finishing touches on a few paintings, hung them on the wall, photographed some of them. Slightly updated my Saatchi Online profile but never got around to finishing it. It's a bit of a mess here and there. Even put a couple of prices on a couple of works. I really need to get better photos of the paintings, but I'll probably never be satisfied. Having colour vision deficiency doesn't help when trying to take an accurate photograph of a multi-coloured painting. Also discovered that my scanner makes really shitty 'hi-res' pictures.

Being doing loads of 'research' towards the novel. That mainly involves reading about Mongolia, Japan, wrestling, Kurt Vonnegut, science fiction, and anything else that temporarily wrests control of my attention. Sometimes I watch a documentary about art. Often times I stare out of the window, at a blank piece of paper, or my ears stare at music or comedy podcasts. After all that I look down at a no-longer blank piece of paper. It now has some doodles of an alien in a hat that looks like an evil Lumpy Space Princess with Predator's mouth. And a sort of squiggly line that could be a vine or a strand of DNA, or it could just be a line. A squiggly one. Depends how you look at it really.

What I'm doing here is just trying to clear the cobwebs from the writing quarter of my brain. They have settled, and around the edges can be seen little spidery egg-sacks. It doesn't look good. If by writing this piece of nothing I can edge back on course to starting the second half of my novel, then you know, just 'if'. I lost my train of though halfway through that last sentence. Oh god, it's not looking good. I'm going for a nap cos I'm a boring cunt. A sleepy one.

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