Shouts From Down Under

Euphoria...or... job done!

Ahhhh the feeling of...of...nup. No words left.

All you other typists who are puffing along, wondering where the heck the next chapter, scene, dialogue, idea is going to come from, cheer up, they're only words!
You don't have to get permission to use them. So dive in. You are nearly there! Keep at it!

Ok. that's enough exclaimation marks.

That's the thing with words though isn't it? There are always some left in the tank. Only our minds say we have none. Only our minds trick us into a lie, the deceit of saying we are exhausted and lost for words.

So even if I'm a bit blank in the word tank, there is always a picture.

And hey, there's a thousand words right there, so they um, say.




Sparky

(Am still plugging along, with a few chapters left to actually finish the novel. But I'm up to the parts where I can let my characters shout their tits off, drive like maniacs, put an axe through windows, rescue fair maidens, or if they aren't into maidens, then the muscley woman hefts her man, or female partner out of the burning building, rebuilds his / her V8 460 big block for him, has her hair done, packs her bag, digs the veggie patch, and flys off into the sunset aboard a VirginBlue Airlines flight to Bali.

Yep. plenty of words clattering around like yabbies in a bucket.

Like a bunch of false teeth in a galvanised milking pail.



You can tell I'm a bit happy. Tiddly even, and have had nothing to drink yet. I don't drink.

Mostly...