My writing procrastinating process. At least last night.
Step one: Listen to music while playing 2048 for two hours.
Step two: daydream about David Bowie. Worry about ethics of daydreaming about actual person, switch to Spike the vampire, Feyd from Dune… specifically as portrayed by Sting, specifically that one scene where he’s wearing nothing but a cod piece… I start to fear I have a “type”.
Also fear am stuck in the 80s. Or early 90s. Am nursing BMX injury and own Hello Kitty headphones.
Step three: resolve to write about a sexy boy character since it’s what’s on my mind, anyway. Finally close 2048.
Step four: check facebook, twitter, email.
Steps five to eight: check facebook, twitter, email.
Step nine: receive a rejection letter
Step ten: sob on husband’s shoulder, declare self a complete waste of human flesh.
Me: They HATE me. It’s me. I’m a terrible person. I’m out of touch. Old out of touch person who still thinks about David Bowie and BMX bikes.
Him: It’s not intrinsic to you. The story is in how you write it.
Me: If I were a good person I would write a saleable story the first time!
Him: That invalidates everything you usually say.
Me: STOP LOGIC-ING.
Step eleven: After good cry and glass of whisky, revise the rejected story. (Writing looks a lot like slacking. This is either a blessing or a curse.)
Horray! Successfully wrote for one hour on night off. I’d thank the rejection for getting me to do actual work, but I don’t want it to have the satisfaction!
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