as discussed in my previous, mildly-nonsensically-rambling blogpost, i need to sort my shit out (incidentally, there were rather a lot of references to poopoops in that last post – an unconscious association with the current contents of my brain, perchance…?)  here’s my idea, and my plan (i hope you brought a shovel…):

i lovelovelove being able to refer to myself as a writer.  it’s such a cool thing to be able to say.  but i don’t feel like a writer at the moment, as i’m not writing anything.  but even if i only write one novel per year, i think i still qualify as a writer.  because i’m still writing, i just do it all at once, instead of a bit at a time.  and i can get excited about NaNoWriMo – it seems like a big adventure.  i love words, the act of storytelling, the stories themselves, and every other form of storytelling there is.  make your own list.  but i am not, at the moment, writing bloody anything. i’m not being creative at. all.  so i’m going to change my perspective, and go a little easy on myself (some might say too easy, but i say, “Meh – this is my creative life – police your own output and stay out of my face.”) because if i am being creative, then i don’t feel like quite such a worthless waste of breath and meatspace.


i am fundamentally unwilling to commit to anything large and long precisely because it takes such a long time (See * for the reason).  curerntly, my pal Rosie is worldbuilding with a holy fervour on her 2011 NaNoWriMo epically fantastic novel.  and i am cheering her on all the way, because anyone with a name like Rosanna Silverlight ought to be a novelist anyway – never mind the fact that she is a completely kickass writer (are you listening, Rosie?! i’ll keep saying it until i’ve convinced you! 😉  she’s in it for the long haul, and she knows, and i know, and anyone else who’s read anything of her WIP Swordslave, will know that it will be worth the long haul.  me?  not so much.  therefore, i prefer instant gratification.  hey – i’m impatient.  whatchagonnado? * actually, the real reason is that i don’t believe there’s enough in there to make all the hard work worth it.  but i’m easy with that.  for the moment, at least.  here’s why:  it doesn’t matter.  all that matters is the act of creating somenthing.  anything.  be it:

painting my nails in some outlandish (or even simple but cool) design

writing a poem/story/novel/whatthefuckever

editing some of my previous work

knitting my mum’s christmas present (endlessly, endlessly knitting)

creating anything that was not there before.  also, interacting with others’ creativity:


watching films


2- and 3-D art


anything, as long as i think about it before and/or/after.  there are current projects that have been neglected.  i will enumerate these, and then i will schedule time for them.  otherwise, they just become giant-tangled-ball-of-stuff-to-do, and i end up avoiding the lot to dick around on youtube or twitter or whatever.

and another thing…twitter.  my interaction with twitter has to change, too.  bigtime.

…to be continued…