Are you writing directly on to your blog?
Yes. What of it?
Don’t you what of it me sunshine. You never write directly on to your blog. Never ever. Ever. You are strictly a write-it-down-somewhere-else-and-paste-it-later kind of a guy.
So? Can’t I try something new every now and then?
What, like writing a story?
Oh ha ha. I am writing one. I’m just taking a break.
Break my arse. Admit it, this is another of your masterclasses in how to use a blog post as a means of avoiding writing.
No! I’m just clearing my thoughts. It was going pretty well actually. The story…
…was shite! You’ve managed fifty words in an hour. Fifty eight highly depressing and tedious words I might add.
Whose side are you on?
There are no sides. There is but the spinning of a coin from the fingers of an ancient God, weary of the piteous trials of men. He refuses to call head or tail yet remains content to laugh soundlessly from the pit where his soul used to reside and so the wheel turns on a setting sun and the game plays ceaselessly within…
What the f…
Sorry. It’s that impossibly shit fantasy novel you’ve been reading for the last three months bleeding into my thoughts. Your thoughts. Our thoughts. Whatevs.
It’s not that bad. It’s actually getting…
Do NOT say better. Every single page is either about killing demons or having sex. Sometimes it’s both. It’s like a fifteen page idea stretched to about nine million pages over what will no doubt be a series of about nineteen novels. Give me a Thomas Covenant or a Drizzt Do’Urden any day of the week.
Fine. It’s shit. But I’ve started it so I…
The world is not going to end if you don’t finish a book. Read something else or I guarantee the fifty eight words you’ve written tonight based on some weird metaphor for pressure and banging on about your soul being ground into nothingness by the passing of time will be the pinnacle for you. Just stay away from Murakami for a while – being a swearing cat wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I still wake up shuddering about where my tongue went.
Nope. That’ll be all. Get back to your writing. Once you’ve wasted another half an hour agonising over which tags to attach to this excuse for a blog post of course…not to mention the two hours you’ll spend looking for a suitable featured image, the fifteen minutes deciding a category, the twenty seven previews, the witty and utterly pointless hashtags…oh very funny choice of image. Ha bloody ha. You do realise what a twat you are, don’t you?
And you’re a crappy writer.
Yep. But you love me.
Yeah. Sort of.