Blogger was a rollin’ stone…

Neglectful.

Blog abandoned for weeks…months?

I’m a bad, bad blogger I know. I’ve never really kept diaries (unfortunately. Some record of my actual teen angst would be handy for some projects. I only have a few notebooks with terrible poems or my drama diary for 6th form drama which was heavily self censored and I guess, self centered!) so why should a blog be any different?

But I have been writing again – some rewrites of the novel before we begin editing in earnest (although I guess this is editing).

The climax is in the bag (everything I write/say at the moment seems like innuendo. I apologise!) and today I’m working on the end and thinking about the beginning. I need to describe January and the season.

This morning there was a storm in Wellington. Thunder, lightning and hail. I heard the kids next door maybe an hour later say “It’s snowing!” but by the time I looked out the window it had all melted away. I probably should have gotten up earlier to begin writing, but it was “snowing” and my bed was lovely and warm. Besides I’m still suffering the effects of becoming addicted to playing Pokemon on my new DS Lite.

Ah distractions. There are so many! Work, sewing, knitting, cleaning…(that one doesn’t come up very often I must say!)

I was in the library not so long ago, loitering around the how to write/style guides section. It was very tempting to check out a “How to write a great novel” book when realised that I didn’t need to read about it. I just need to do it.

So this is a round about apology for not posting for ever – it’s just that it has fallen in the distraction category for a while.

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1 Comment

Filed under Musings, The Graphologist's Apprentice

One response to “Blogger was a rollin’ stone…

  1. ed

    I was told this happened to a friend of mine but I think it is an urban myth – but the moral still stands:
    famous writer comes to a University Q&A to talk about how to become a writer, lots of people have attended.
    The Writer asks “how many people here want to write?”
    Everyone puts up their hands.
    “well what the hell are you doing here? – why aren’t you writing?” The Writer leaves the stage.

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