It’s amazing how I can like routine in some aspects of my life (House on Mondays, CSI:NY on Tuesdays) while I can just up and do things like take a 3-hour round trip just to get my feet in seawater or chop off my long locks to make my head feel ringan giler.
That’s one of the reason I loved the work of a journalist. It’s always another story the next day, unless your boss is crazy and told you to serialise a.. takeover bid, for a week or two. That’s just hell. Maybe that is why I have not actually sat down and really write something longer than a 15-para article. Or maybe I have very short attention span, like everyone else these days.
I’ve tried, you know, a number of times. Started with an outline, history of each character, the works. Just not an actual story because I thought I’d just follow where the characters will take me (so cliched isn’t it?). Once I managed 10 pages. That’s the most I’ve gotten writing a piece of fiction.
Over a week ago, Kino had a window display of books on writing. I remember one was “Fondling Your Muse”. HA HA HA. I don’t know if the content is as interesting as the title, though.
See? I only managed four paragraphs up there.