Usually I like my titles to be nicely capitalised.
I have had the most horrific 4 days where writing is concerned. 4 days of trying and failing to break the 9000 mark. It’s been agonising. I didnt leave the house over the weekend, and cancelled my social engagements (I’m not really the kind of person that says ‘social engagements’, but for this post I’ll make an exception) during the week to try and get back up to where I’m supposed to be. I failed miserably. Failed astoundingly. I achieved a level of failure beyond that I had ever dreamed myself capable of. I knew I was never going to write again.
And today, after a long session at the gym (why bother rushing home only to fail at words?) I had a sudden splurge – almost 3000 words in a night. Not enough to take me anywhere close to my target, but enough to break the 10K barrier and the internal ‘ICANTDOTHIS’ barrier, and also to make me not want to set my laptop on fire in a fit of screaming fustrated writery angsty fuge, ‘fuge’ being a combination of the words ‘furious’ and ‘rage’. To fuge (in my mind anyway, there are others who will disagree) is to be seething with anger plus fury-stomping plus hissy fit plus melodramatic depression, but to do it SILENTLY and completely ineffectually. Fuge is one of my favourite words.
So anyway, fuck you 9000 words, I’m free of the evil hold you had on me. A character from another idea has strolled into the story and seems to be getting on unexpectedly well with my main character, who has resumed being a child instead of the young adult she seemed to become for a couple of thousand words, but hell, who cares?! NaNoWriMo is resumed, though I’m stil way behind. It’s fine. It’ll work out.
And so, to bed.
Now that you’re done here, can I suggest watching this FANTASTIC video immediately – the audio is Taylor Mali reading one of his poems. It will improve your life.