NaNoMateriaLo

I'm checking in again.

I...

Hang on, I've forgotten what I wrote last time. I'd better re-read it, so I don't repeat myself. I'll be back in a second.

***

OK, I'm up to speed.

I'm still writing. It's still the same. I don't know if I'm enjoying it, but at least I'm doing it. Of course, I'm only a third of the way through it. I'm sure I'll hit the wall at some point, and will come back here to vent my frustrations.

The main problem with NaNoWriming is that I have no time for anything else. It's not like my schedule is usually chock full of incident, but even by my standards, I have little to tell you about.

Have I worked out any interesting theories about stuff? No.

Have I cut myself shuving? No.

Was I mistaken for Clive Owen? Well, yes. But that's only because his grandmother is blind. I claimed to have a cold! She gave me lots of money, and then I ran off. He'll never know. Take that, Clive.

In addition to my pretending to be Clive Owen and trying to write a novel, I have two stand-up gigs to prepare for. One is in Oxford, one is in London.

I have no idea what I'm going to do. The Oxford gig is my usual one, so I feel I should come up with something new, or at least relatively new. And the London one? Should I fall back on old standards, or push the boundaries of comedy by making fun of Mitt Romney? I don't know.

I don't like to be ill prepared.

This month has far too much going on. November... And then there's Christmas to deal with! I wish I lived on a planet that didn't orbit the sun. That would solve everything.

Writing prose fiction has made me yearn for the simplicity of scriptwriting.

Nana Owen: You seem different somehow, Clivey.

Me: That's because I have a part in a film.

Nana Owen: Oh, that's nice! What's the role?

Me: It's the role where I tell you to SHUT UP.

Nana Owen: That doesn't sound very mainstream. You should be in one of those Twilight films. You'd be a good Frankingstein.

Me: Yes, I suppose I... Hang on a minute! Don't use your mind tricks on me, woman! Now where's that cheque?

You see? It truly is the noblest profession.

Here. Take this video. Hide it somewhere safe. Only watch it if you're being pursued by someone who wouldn't like it.