I don’t know what I’m thinking, putting the words “easy” “hard” and “fucking” so prominently on my blog. Given that, when I check my stats, the phrase most commonly googled to hit my site is “my head hurts”, perhaps it could work well in my favour to have all that profanity for search engines to crawl over.
I’ve been sitting here this morning writing. Ooh, feels so good! The whole Mount Doom thing has gone away, and thank you for all of your concerned Sam-like comments (though I should stress I was never seriously worried… was I?). All I can say is, when you’re lying in the gutter, even the kerb can seem a long way up.
As always, the only way to solve any writing problem is to write. That’s it. The only solution you’ll ever need, forever and ever, amen. Sometimes it feels like you’re stuck outside the story, and it’s all going on in there but you just can’t get in. Your characters are partying down, listening to doof-doof music (which you can hear faintly), possibly wearing tropicana-coloured eighties clothes, and drinking their vodka with red lemonade; all the while laughing at you. While you’re outside and it’s dark and cold and drizzling slightly but in a miserable way, not in a nice way. Like, it’s getting in your shoes. And you know you could get into the damn party if only you knew the secret password.
Well, the secret password is any combination of words as long as there are 500. If you can write 500 words, even if they are absolute shite, you will be in the party. I’m not saying that the party-goers will necessarily behave when you get in (and they may insist on keeping their turquoise bubble skirts on), but at least you’re in and you can start trying to boss them around.
Warning: they don’t always behave.