Have You Ever …The Write Stuff of 2021

(continuing my occasional series of weird and wonderful things that never, seriously, never, happen to me)

… been struggling to write anything of significance for the entirety of 2020 and came up with bupkis, but just for laughs on the 8th of January 2021 you decide that, by-gosh-and-by-golly, you will write 3,000 words on a new story every writing day (not every day but the one’s designated as writing days)

… and by the end of January you’ve settled into a steady rhythm of writing 2,000+ words every day, and not only are they words that form congruent sentences but they’re good words …

… and one night you have a particularly brilliant scene pop into your mind fully formed  …

… and by the time you’ve finished it’s three-o-clock in the morning and you still need to wind down so by the time you actually do get into bed it’s nigh-on 4am …

… and just as you’re falling asleep another scene pops into your mind, only this one’s not quite so well-formed so you decide you can get away with just making notes on the notepad that you take everywhere with you these days, without getting out of bed again and possibly disturbing your spouse who’s asleep in the next room and who’s not sleeping well at the moment anyway …

… and you reach across your bedside table to find a pen because the one you were using has run out of ink and you bump your lamp and send it crashing to the floor …

… and you get out of bed, pick up the lamp (it’s still working) and your pen, which has rolled under the bed …

… and get back into bed, get your writing tools reorganised, and knock over your bloody lamp again?

Nah. Me neither.

Feeling Snarly

Snipperty-snickerty-snarkerty-snap

Snipperty-snickerty-snarkerty-snap

I’m finally getting into my writing rhythm of four hours a day that I promised myself I would aspire to this year. I break it up into 30 minute bite-sized bits by setting a timer to go off every half hour so I can stand up, stretch my arthriticals, ablute, eat, do chores, (take pics of Coco the community cat) that sort of thing.

The universe I created for my latest novel morphed into a story gobbling creature that’s absorbed several other story concepts. I’m not complaining. In fact it’s rather astounding how they all slipped into the established framework. I now have a timeline that extends into hundreds, if not thousands of years. Go big or go home, I say! … *gulp*

This is a good thing. What’s not so good is that I’m so immersed in my wordy worlds, re-entry to this mortal coil is … let’s just call it, an interesting exercise.

When the timer goes off, it’s usually just at the moment I’m typing faster than the speed of light in the throes of decadent inspiration … Snarl – the lip curling kind.

I stomp off and do whatever it is that I planned to do and then sigh dramatically as I wait for the kettle to boil for a cup of tea.

That’s not the really interesting part though. I know most writers experience variations on this theme, but what happens when it’s time to sit back down at the keyboard again is what causes me to, eventually, laugh at myself.

My procrastinating self really resents having its procrastinations interrupted by this horrible work ethic it’s certain I’ve picked up from some den of scum and villainy, and I get snarly.

I believe this is the definition of a no-win situation!

Now, for some Coco pics …

No

No

Nope

Nope