When life hands you lemons...
I know that there are a handful of things that I happen to be good at, such as:
- Putting things on coat hangers
- Getting people to help me (it's all in the eyes)
- Predicting Masterchef winners (I'm seriously on a role)
- Hearing the new hot band before my friends (or at least until I started dating a guy who introduced me to a whole host of music nazis)
Lately everyone wants to know what I want to do with my future and I suppose the truth is that I don't have big dreams. But the sad thing is that I keep telling people that I used to want to be a writer.
I also happen to be one of those unfortunates that writes better when depressed. And I'm not gonna wish for depression just to get a decent dialogue or plotline outta me. Regardless, I still write. Letters, lists, blogs, diaries, poems, texts, tweets. Sometimes it's so much better than talking.
So you guys all know the drill with Nanowrimo. Write a novel in a month. Preferably 50,000 words, but that's just a guideline.
I can't even begin to tell you how busy my November is. Aside from working and buying Christmas presents, I'm going to London, going to Birmingham, seeing Frank Turner twice and sitting through around seven hours of Twilight in one sitting (and probably many more afterwards).
But I've never been too busy to write before.
I'm getting off track here. My point is that I'm going to try and if I fail spectacularly, then I fail and you shall all have the pleasure of witnessing it.