Blighter's Block

I ate a massive lamb burger for lunch, and now I'm struggling to stay alive.

They had a choice of beef or lamb. The beef ones were quite small. The lamb ones were huge. So I chose the latter. Size was the only factor in my decision. It wouldn't have mattered if the lamb ones were rotten and holograms.

Who would chose the beef? Some sheep enthusiast?

Bigger is always better. A big tomato is better than a small tomato. A big car is better than a small car. A big fire is better than a small fire.

Now people are milling about eating cake, and I can't deal with it. How can they eat cake at a time like this, with their bellies so full of meat, bun and gherkin? They're acting like they're not as full as I am, like they didn't eat a massive lamb burger, like they don't have the same thoughts, history and beard as me.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only sane person in a sea of crazy water.

I watched the film 12 Angry Men yesterday. Apparently, it was originally called A Baker's Dozen Angry Men, but one of the jurors was cut for time.

It reminded me of when I was doing jury service. My experience wasn't very similar to Henry Fonda's, though I did have knife in my pocket.

That's a specific reference to the film th

***

And I stopped writing the post at that point. It was yesterday. Now is today. I'm no longer full, and I don't know what I was going to write about.

I've been struggling with my blogging lately. I keep second, third, fourth and sixth-guessing myself. I immediately reject my ideas.

I hope this isn't the beginning of my decline. Or the end of it. I don't really want it to be the beginning of my incline, either. I'm not prepared for that. I'd want to pack a lunch and put on some suitable shoes.

I need to break through my blog writer's block (or blighter's block). I just need to believe in myself.

No. No, actually that's not helping. My existence does not help my confidence. True creativity emerges from the gaps between doubt and certainty. I need to believe that I might exist.

We all might exist, except for Impossible Karen (and even she is applying for a visa).

Here's an idea:

Serialised Content

That's right. I capitalised both words. That's how important it is.

I'll do a continuing story for a while. That way, I won't have to think about what to write.

It's such an obvious solution, it's a wonder that I haven't done it before.

I'll go for prose. Prose is easier than some of the other literary forms, like giant inflatable verbs. I'm a master of prose. Look how long this paragraph is already. It's a proper paragraph; longer than the single lines I've written above it. And a semi-colon! This will be like taking candy from a baby and writing a compelling narrative about said candy, and reading it to the baby in an attempt to stop it crying. Prose it is.

It's important that I choose a premise that has a lot of mileage in it. I don't want to run out of steam. It needs to have compelling characters, a strong central narrative, and perhaps a tank (be it 'think', 'septic' or one of those army ones).

I can't start it here and now, though. It should have its own entry. Potential publishers aren't going to want to wade through this shit.

Will it be compelling? Well, let's just say that they call me the hotel sketcher.

Why?

Because I, my friend, am going to DRAW. YOU. (AN) IN(N).

#writing