Still here, still working through my words. Red and Carrie are still on the near ether, and I'm trying to poke them downstairs. There's plot down there. But I have a feeling Carrie's about to duck back next door and grab her drink first. Is it possible to get drunk on the ether? I suppose it is. It'd certainly help with the plot. Anyway, I'm just avoiding work. Nothing really to say. This novel had better bloody well be worth it. The amount of time and effort I've put into the damned thing. If people read it and aren't inspired to tears I'm going to be very upset. Sometimes I can't help but think it's nothing but trite and crap that's thinly strung together by wishful thinking. I mean, if it was this easy to write something amazing, more people would be doing it, surely? It's not like I can just pull down my pants and shit gold, much as I'd like to believe that it is. Ho-hum. I suppose I'll see. I'd hate to think I've wasted all this time and effort, but I may very well be just pissing up a wall. It'd probably be worse to get this far and then just give up, though. I think I'm going to have some more coffee and go to the loo.
At least if I was sitting at the piano, I'd know if I was hitting the right notes or not. You've got no way of knowing if you're writing. You're just shooting in the dark.
I'm looking forwards to the new Superman movie, though. And the new Pirates movie. My life should have more of that sort of excitment in it. They're bound to inspire me in some way. I love something which just reaches out and touches you with a glamour hand. It's what I live for. |