Synopses are fun, not. I’ve spent five hours endlessly refining two pages of text today, which initially resembled the most unfocused mess since Stevie Wonder was put in charge of Hubble. I meant to put up a serious post about writing novels (just my own experiences rather than anything approaching “advice”, obviously. There’s no good or bad way to write a novel, just what works for you), but that’s going to have to wait for next week. I’m mentally exhausted, which is one of those things that inevitably happens when I concentrate crazily hard for an extended period of time. Is it the end of the weekend already? Shit.
So, consider this entry a placeholder. Sometime in the next few days I’ll dispense with the jokey shenanigans of Z-list television (much as they’re fun to blog about) for at least one post, and attempt to explain how writing works for me. It’ll probably be self-indulgent tripe. But hey, it’s a blog, right?