I'm a Bad Seed

Three burials & a funeral.  Two miscarriages & a healthy dose of elephantiasis.  All the catastrophes in the universe are coming to ring your doorbell.  No cheap disco this time around, buddies.  Blood, damnation & some very, very bad feelings.

The mood ring will explode.  There is no such color to illustrate a mood that does not yet have a name.

I'm a doomed writer.  The kinda guy who has a big mouth, uses it a lot, but doesn't get lots of things done in real life.  I do my share, sure, and when I compare my case to others I do a lot, but I'm not doing all I can to achieve something like, let's say, crossing all the "things to do" on my list at the end of each day.

I wouldn't call myself a slacker but often, the discipline I am trying to keep up just... vanishes.

That's why writing something "de longue haleine" is pretty hard.  A novel, for example, might get me real enthusiastic for a while.  I may even write about 100 pages or more... and then something happens.  An unplanned event, something that keeps me away from the computer for a couple of days, and when I go back to "my work", the magic's gone.  It's over.  I give up.

I give up a lot these days.

Anyway, you can't begin to comprehend how MANDATORY it is to write every day, when writing something "important".  Be it a thesis, an essay, a novella or a novel, you can't just leave it somewhere and get back to it when you feel like it.

And I just got an idea.  What about writing a novel and publishing it on a BLOG ?

No contraints.  You do whatever you like, here, fellow blogger.  You can be anywhere in this country and have access to a computer.  You log on, write your daily chapter, post it, and it's automatically stored.  Saved.  Archived.  You don't carry your laptop around.

-I would love to continue writing, but I don't have my "work" on me...
-No problem buddy, it's RIGHT THERE, ON THE NET.

All the subconscious objections, and lames excuses that usually keep me from publishing something - gone.

Listen.  I once completed two novels.  Back in '95 and '96.  I had dreams.  I wanted to write at least two books a year.  I know that if this is the only thing I do, I'm able to.  I have the patience & inspiration.  But in this cruel world, being a cruel man ain't all about layin' back and typing all day.  Put some food on the table.  Get a tan.  Get botox.  Silicone.  Gin tonic.

Typing some words falling from your head on a cathodic screen so they're printed one day and 12 people read them after the year long process it takes to get published ?  What kind of fuckin' hobby is that !?