Bank Holiday, Mundane

Wasn’t it though? Mundane I mean.
I didn’t leave the garret today. I’m a writer, I don’t need to!
So far I’ve been to space, a little drift around Mars and in the process somehow managed to pull the twisted tail of my latest novel out of the bag of shite it was in danger of turning into. Eight days away from writing and within ten lines I’d come up with the bit that I needed to turn it around.
I don’t plan, unlike many others. I simply start writing. Often I’ve only got a title or a vague idea then I’m off. I make the rest up along the way.
Perhaps that’s why no-one’s heard of me you might unkindly whisper in a hissy-bitch voice.
Perhaps you should stop being such a prissy fuck, I reply in an overly-aggressive repost way more nasty than required but hey, I don’t tell you how to suck ass do I?
Er; anyway, I’ve also been to Amsterdam where my last novel is set.
I’m in the middle of proofing, editing and changing it from 1st person to 2nd but at the same time leaving all the thoughts of my character in the 1st person. Yea, exactly! What the fuck I was thinking of I do not know but trust me, it’s awesome and will be amazing by the time I’ve finished adding and cutting and expanding with mental metaphors and imagery unlike anything I’ve written before. No doubt the wanker agents still won’t get it but fuck em. You have to believe in yourself and your work and as they say, write what you know. I know about mental deficiency, depression and weirdness so if I can’t write this shit, who can?
So, bank holiday was a wash-out, surprise! Actually that’s something I don’t often feature in my writing, maybe my next novel will be wet. After the artificial atmosphere of space (is it though?) I could play around with the elements a bit. Ive been thinking I could do with a break from stretching the boundaries of my limited intelligence, maybe a nice holiday reading other people’s work for a change?
Hmmm, fat chance.

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