I have written stuff. Have had it written as of 9:30am this morning.
I can’t post written stuff because the website I write for is throwing a 500-error at me from my computer.I have anger.
So with the imminent “Holy fuck I need to get off of my behind and write 3 original posts a week”, there are certain truths that I have discovered about myself:
Firstly, I am the world champion of writer’s block. Eleventy million ideas, and no idea where the fuck to start.
I couple this with the handicap that I have little or no time, if I wish to continue my thin hold on sanity. I am a full-time employee, and most days I get in the door and I’m straight on Grandma duty.
When these powers combine, I develop the unrivalled ability to procrastinate.
Seriously. It took me an hour before I typed that third point.
Old!Sarah would look at all of this, go “meh - fuck it”, and walk away so that she could play her monumentous backlog of video games or curl up in bed to sleep.
But this is new and improved Sarah. And she is going to take a tablespoon of concrete and harden the fuck up.
See, I wrote about this last year when I was doing Year of the Novel, and a lot of these rules apply to non-fiction and research writing as well. But I got lazy and so need a refresher on getting myself together and getting discipline around my writing practice.
So Grandma is going to get her hour of crime drama every night, but I am going to be sitting there with notebook and lamp and scrawling random words with the hope that it will make sense. I am bowing down and kissing the figurative boots of Google Docs to have an “article draft” folder for on the go, and to try and keep a list of the articles that I have ongoing.
Wibble wibble wibble!
Shepard I watched those vids,
learned some new moves.
I watched highly educational videos Shepard.
Art in motion if I do say so myself.
You know what, no.
I watched a ton of inter-species porn.
Porn Shepard, I watched porn for you.
All the porn.