Chronicles of a Procrastinating Novelist Volume 16: Writing Day Types - The Slog
Today was a day on which the words flowed like glue from a twenty year old Elmer's bottle. All the desire and time were there. Hell, even two promising projects on which I've been making excellent progress the last few months were freshly swimming round the brain pan. Sat down to write. Pffffffffttttttt. Spzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. mlrtlllllllllllllllllllllllbrb. Bloop. Turtle fuzz. Y'all know my feelings on Writer's Block by now, nevertheless, some days the mood, will, and desire, present though they be, yield nothing and the Inspiration Fairy's gone out for margaritas. So I did a fall back. I poked around at nascent blog post ideas. I actually did the leg work for some listicles and laid out some horrendously rough drafts, which are better than nothing by default of being existent. I wrote two paragraphs on the latest scene in my newest novella outline then, Mort Rainey style, dumped them. I made coffee. Drank it. Read over a few recent short story drafts. Corrected some typos. Moved a sentence. Went on an adverb murder spree. Made herbal tea. Drank that. Made black tea and drank that with sugar in it. Crossed out some to-do list items. Added twelve. Attacked my wall of sticky notes and did a cull. Played David Lynch Teaches Typing. Opened and read my "Title Exercise" document and for the one hundred millionth time tried to come up with a title for my Irish mob novel. (I'm sorry, Declan! One day, I promise!) Browsed the folder of fan art my sister has drawn for me based on my own fiction. Added to my "Dream Casts for My Books" Pinterest board. Made more coffee because I burnt the first pot. Sat down. Wrote this blog post. You're welcome.
Thank you for reading.
B
