It’s a cold and blustery morning here in Brisbane, and after I get home from work this evening I’m going to need to disappear down the rabbit hole and get some writing done. The entire week is something of an experiment in that front, figuring out a new routine that works around the dayjob. I’m experimenting with getting up earlier, packing an extra hour into my pre-work routine so I can tend to my email and the website and get some reading done. It seems to be going well, although by “going well” I really mean “I have time to write this here blog post and might do it again tomorrow, if only so people don’t keep assuming that I’ve been kidnapped by ninjas and sacrificed to great C’thulhu.”
My curse is to spend my life wandering the earth, bemoaning the fact that I do not write enough. And it occurs to me that. as curses go, that’s probably not a bad one to have.
After all, I could have been a werewolf. Or I could live in interesting times. By all accounts, both these curses suck.
Last night I started writing something I suspect is a blog post, although given that it’s looking like becoming a 4,000 word monster it’s entirely possible I’ll never get around to posting it. There’s a reason I put very little thought into planning and pre-editing these things; the moment I take them on as a project, rather than a means of dropping by and saying hi to the world, I start writing essayish things that eat hideous levels of wordcount.
Of course, I’m not entirely sure what else I’m going to do with this piece once it’s done. There’s not a huge market for four thousand words of me drawing parallels between The Paradise Motel and Hotel Sorrento.
Just in case I do change my mind and post it tomorrow, I’ll make this a short one and hope people will spot me the change.