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What follows could either be a. a snippet from my NaNo novel or, 2. a recent conversation between Sarge and me: I need to write. Then write. How do I get out of the way? Write in the bathroom, on the toilet, in the tub. Write in bare feet, using a pencil with no eraser. Stick your head out the window, shut your eyes and breathe. And don’t take breaks to talk to your mother about goat wool. That wasn’t…
And so, I’m ‘doing’ NaNoWriMo this year. We have always had a strange relationship. Past attempts have seen me bang out 20,000 words and then well, edit them. Note to self and others: Don’t. Do. That. I have a penchant for abandoning projects in favour of others which I think ‘sound better’, and I don’t finish anything. Except really short stories or ‘novel excerpts’. Novel excerpts are short stories that wouldn’t shut up. See, I don’t like writing that sounds…
I talk to my computer. Depending on my mood, my headset and speech recognition are optional. When I’m not apologising for the coffee stains, procrastinating, shall we say, positively willing it to hurry up, or punching the keys, I’m dictating. And sometimes, I’m misquoted. Hemingway thinks I should be more interesting. Or grammatically incorrect. Some recent examples are: I Said: She wished she could speak French like French people. He Heard: She wished she could speak Brent like I…
Growing up, I wanted to be a lot of things. Writer, nurse, Mom and bus-driver topped my list, written when I was 6, in rainbow block crayon. I also wanted to be a lawyer, an artist specialising in Spin-art, and a country singer. So it was a long list, and vet was not on it. I am a people person from way back. I have always loved dogs. Big ones with bigger eyes. Shrill, yappy ones have never been…
