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Apparently blog is short for weblog. |
| I will now attempt to blog. |
*** I think I’m good at writing minimally. Being direct and to the point feels natural to me. There’s a lightness to the prose when I write like this. If I try to write ‘clever’ or ‘masterful’ sentences, my head feels bogged down. I wonder if I have a very low reading and writing IQ — whatever that means. Are simple sentences all my intelligence can handle? I don’t think that’s it. When I use simple sentences, it feels as though I’m building a house, brick by brick. Each line is pulled from my head and carefully placed on the page, like little threads, and I feel my mind easing, calming, growing lighter. *** |
*** I think I should write in a really casual and informal way — conversational. When I try to write formally, in the style of whichever author I’m reading at the time, all the words on the page look phoney and empty and dusty. I’m a very informal person, and every bit of writing advice starts with ‘write what you know,’ you know? I know how to chat rubbish for hours and hours, using casual — unintelligent — language. Maybe that’s what I’ll do with this blog: chat rubbish for hours and hours. Peace. *** |
*** I’m struggling with writing at the moment. I’m motivated and passionate, that’s for sure. But I keep flip-flopping between style and form. Novel? Short story? Minimalist or maximalist? I read Hemingway and that’s that: I’m writing short stories. Then I read Pratchett, and I’m banging away at the keyboard, writing a Discworld knock-off. Next minute… And so on. It sure is difficult to stick to a style and genre with a brain as scattered as mine. *** |
*** We picked him up at a service station in Dover. He’d travelled by plane, ferry, and van all the way here from Cyprus. He cried when the man from the charity got him from the back of the van. He was so small and skinny and covered in muck. Leaning against my shins, he shivered and took his first look at England. As soon as we got him in the car, we gave him some chicken, and he settled down and stopped shaking. We used wet wipes to clean the muck from his black fur as he slept. We drove him home. We named him Leo. *** |
| Hello to anyone who stumbles upon this blog. I hope you didn't sprain anything. I've decided to start blogging a bit. I'm not entirely sure what I'll be blogging about. I'm currently working on a novel, and I've been writing flash fiction to practice my prose, and I'd quite like another excuse to practice writing, ergo, bloggo! Anyway, like everything else I do in life, I've decided to give this a go to see what happens. Blog over and out.  |
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