Camp Nanowrimo

OK, so I stopped at 16, 000 words last year and have hardly looked at it since. So what. Still counts as a win in my books.

I had popped back  to say that this blog will be restarting in November when I will purposely be taking myself out of Real Life (including turning down any roller derby bouts I might have coming up – you cannot know the level of sacrifice that requires) to try, once again, to write a shit novel in a month.

HOWEVER, in light of recent events (i.e. the bombshell that is Camp Nano) you may find me up and blogging [read: procrastinating] a little earlier than that. Let’s see how we go.

In the meantime I’ll be posting a whole load of vapid shit over on my Blogger blog, which has been up and running for about 5 minutes. Or since March. Whatever. Anyway, come along and post comments so I can pretend I’m popular and important.



Some of all of the things.

One of the things about writing is that there’s never a good time.There’s always something else going on, something that needs you’re attention, something you are supposed to do or to have already done, something you need to worry about, something you need to think about.

One of the other things about writing is that it’s a nostalgic activity. It was always better in the past, always easier, quicker, funnier, better. What the hell is wrong with you, Writing? I thought we were friends. We used to have fun together, didn’t we? What about all those nights we spent together, up until dawn – they were good times, weren’t they? I’m sure I remember them as good times…

Another one of the things about writing is that you need to be in THAT MOOD to do it, and THAT MOOD isn’t always the most condusive mood for normal life.

Another one of the other things about writing is that when you lose your voice, it really does NOT sound sexy.

One of the another other things about writing is that it takes up so much energy: thinking energy, avoiding energy, doing energy, procrastinationing energy, guilt energy, snacking energy, taking two baths in a day energy. All the different energies.

There are so many bloody THINGS about writing…

PLUS other writers are all smug bastards (Neil Gaiman, I’m talking about YOU).

1800 words down, another 1600 tonight. 2000 would be better. Apparently my characters live in a small seaside town in a city that’s nowhere near the sea. And it’s seemingly aimed at kids in the 8-12 bracket, with the occasional chapter that’s more appropriate for some kind of non-fiction geological tome, and parts that even the imaginary cat that I don’t own wouldn’t piss on.

T’was brillig…