5000 limericks…


statistics2Presuming there are about thirty words in a standard limerick, I have so far written the equivalent of five-thousand – that’s 5000 – limericks in my latest attempt at writing.
I’m not bragging, it’s just the only thing I can think of to post about, which does not bode well for my blog in the long run, in all honesty.
Still, five-thousand limericks is not to be sniffed at. That’s a lot of rhymes. Makes you think.
So I guess this is a progress report.
With so many words done you’d have thought the story would be well under way. It would be a reasonable man that expected you to be in the meat of the tale by now. You’d be wrong. My lead character (indeed, the POV) has been problematic. It feels very much like I’m trying too hard to demonstrate the character’s growth, and as such am losing the pace. Not that pace was ever an imperative, but it’s never good to drag the story’s arse through the mud. The incidental (ie non-POV) chars are worryingly unremarkable and I have the awful feeling that, if I ever get to the end, I will need to re-write whole bundles of chapters (bundles being the collective noun for chapters, as all know).
But, Zen-like, I forge ahead, still enjoying the progress. A friend of mine said this week that they could never try to write as they’d just not know what to write, which struck me as quite shameful. If you don’t trust your imagination enough to make stuff up, then what the hell is going on? You have probably finally lost your inner child, and you are fully justified in mourning.
Well, post done, I’m off to do other stuff.
J

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Blank Holiday


Argh. I cannot overstate that expression of frustration. Maybe an exclamation point will help. Ahem, let me try again.

Arrrgh!

I have been reading a lot of blogs recently. This wordpressy thing is new to me and I am trying to get into the swing of things by trawling the blogs offered, which is turning into a discouraging process.

I don’t know what I expected, but I know what I hoped for. I hoped for enlightened, intriguing discourse, or wit and those special, beautifully phrased, pithy little phrases that make reading a thoroughly wholesome pleasure. I wanted crafted posts, lighting the fire of my turgid imagination.

What I got was the complete opposite. Bland, self-obsessed, regurgitated shash, mostly. And about as much wit as can be summoned up by a wounded antelope hurtling across the savannah being pursued by a pride of hungry lions.

Of course, this is a MASSIVE exaggeration, purely for effect. There are some blogs out there that have genuinely delighted me and, to those bloggers, I offer my insignificant and pointless thanks, but to the rest of you I would like to say thanks for wasting my time. Insert your own sarcastic tone here.

This whole post obviously stinks of hypocrisy. I rail against the forces of self-obsession while perpetrating my own navel-staring, but the difference is that I AM NO DIFFERENT (ha! – no, I don’t get it either), which is why this post exists. I am as bad as all of you.

So here is my offering, written in the full knowledge that nobody is really interested in what I have to say and that I will be dismissed by others as I, myself, dismiss others. This self-obsessed, ¬†ego-centric, strangely self-aware post doesn’t care, which is probably how it should be.

If you think you are one of that small amount of bloggers that can entice me with wares they TRULY believe are worthwhile, then let me know and I’ll have a looksee, and if I like I will, er, ‘like’ or even ‘follow’, so best of luck with that.

If not you can shove it up your arse. Happy blogging!