I want a page full of language, but what I’ve got is a blank wall.
Put in the time anyway.
Stare at the wall.
and remember that Bukowski says ‘writing about writer’s block is better than not writing’
Writing, I am told, is about bum-in-seat time. I beleive that. Hence this post.
Now back to that damn wall.
When I tell people I’m a writer, sometimes they say “I want to write a book one day, and I will, when I’m ready. ”
Here’s the thing, though: it’s unlikely that you’ll ever feel “ready”.
The only folk I have met who felt ready to write had two things in common:
Now just so it’s been said:
#notallmemoirwriters
#narcissistsarepeopletoo
#chloeisn’trightabouteverythingyaknow
If you wait until you feel ready you might end up like me, a dummy who took 12 years to write a novel. Don’t be a dummy.
So even if you choose to disregard everything else I say, consider this:
You are mortal. As you are dying, do you want to regret all the books you didn’t write?
My adult daughter, who is also a writer and visual artist, sent me this. She knows me well. Apparently the weirdness and desire to kick at the daylight until it bleeds darkness is genetic.
It has given me several interesting ideas for short stories, so down the rabbit hole I go.
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ABOUT THE FEATURED IMAGE: to my knowledge, the featured image is an archival photo of no recorded authorship, nor is it under any copyright. If you know something I don’t, tell me and I’ll take it down, cite the photographer, or whatever else is needed.
There I am, sitting at my desk, working away on the sequel to Blood Rain, working title Blood Down the Bones.
Beautiful summer day, not too hot, gentle breeze, nicely sheltered from my mortal enemy, the sun. Cat sleeping on his perch nearby, spouse tending me with cups of hot and iced coffee. Perfect writing day, yes?
I finally make a decision I’ve been mulling for a few weeks, whether to kill off a certain character from Blood Rain.
I draft the scene.
Then I am overwhelmed with sadness. I had actual tears in my eyes. Sheesh.
I like the character I just murdered, and didn’t want to kill them, but it was the only way to move certain pieces into place in the sequel.
How does George RR Martin cope? I don’t know. Is he a secret (or not-so-secret) sadist?
R.I.P. imperfect but noble character, you died a good death. I’m sorry I had to murderize you. And in such a pitiless, horrible way, too. The motherfuckers. How dare they do this to you?!
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Photo by Simone Dalmeri, used under a CC licence. I salute you as well, generous photographer
Chloe Cocking 
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