So, I missed the November and very nearly the December blog posts. Once a month posting doesn’t seem that ambitious until you’re reaching desperately for your pen through a pile of shitty nappies and the phone starts ringing somewhere far away on the other start of the flat. But I’m still here. I’m doing shed loads of writing. And I promise this isn’t the last post. Let me tell you why.
Grammar?
I said there would be grammar posts. I have written a great deal of new work on grammar. But it is not yet ready. Because grammar is hard. And writing about grammar is scary, because those grammar trolls have really fucking big hammers. And I’m scared of hammers. Also, grammar. But I have a big stack of material in process. You will get it. You won’t read it, but you get to feel moral for looking at the title.
Poetry!?
Second, I’ve being doing lots of poetry work. Why the fuck am I doing poetry? I’m shit at poetry! Because precision is an essential quality for any writer, and good poets do precision better than anyone. And everyone does precision better than me. So I’ve been doing poetry stuff. But I need to learn a lot more before I can share the posts. You have been warned.
New Writing!!?
Third, there has been lots of real honest to God writing go on. New material. Exciting new material. Some exciting new material that will turn up on this website in the relatively near future. It would even qualify as new media, if you were born in the 19th century. Trust me, I’m working with some excellent people who will more than make up for my inadequacies. So keep an eye on this site.
Fucking Scary Art-House Computer Games !?!!?
Fourth, I’ve been playing Doki Doki Literature Club and now my head is the most fucked up about literature that it has been since I read House of Leaves. Download it for free from Steam, but please, please pay attention to the content warnings. This is not a manga data sim. It really, really isn’t.
Babies…
Fifth, babies. Turns out when a baby says “now” they mean “right fucking now or I’m going to vomit green shit all over the walls.” I’ve tried to explain to the babies that I have important writing to do, and they replied that a thousand generations of gender inequality mean fuck you bitch clean up my shit. I am writing. It’s just a little disjointed at the moment. Plus, did anybody else notice that babies really smell (then they say ‘papa’ and run over and hug your leg and you’re all like ‘fucking hell my children are French and they love me, life is weird.’)
Are you Sarah Connor?
Sixth, I’m ill. Anybody who knows me has noticed, so I want to say here, don’t worry. I’m like the fucking terminator. Seriously, I’m crawling through that crushing machine after Sarah Connor having already blown up her boyfriend and when they find my last remaining processing chip they’ll still be able to download some weird sci-fi novel about dragons who knit and save children from Tories. Then once I’ve saved Skynet I’m off to help Kylo Ren because someone told me he has an eight-pack and I just have to know for sure. Plus Emo Kylo Ren is my new hero (@KyloR3n)
This isn’t going to go the way you think…
2018 is going to be full of exciting work (and even more obscure references). I will be ill, cause, you know, permanent disability does what it says on the tin. I will be busy with kids because it turns out selling them on e-bay is really hard. But there is cool work on the way. I promise.
photo credit: alisonleighlilly <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/61475957@N02/24878637433″>Truth, Memory: Word(s) of the Day 3/4/2016</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>(license)</a>
