If you followed my tedious writing adventure back in November, when I wrote a 50,022 word novel in four weeks, you'd be forgiven for thinking that I would never do anything so ridiculously time-consuming and unrewarding again. But that would be to underestimate my masochistic streak, as I've recently started writing for fun again. Imagine!
That's right - not content with filling the internet with corporate crap, or writing cathartic tirades against my countryfolk, I've decided to spend even more time sat at the computer writing about pretend things. This mostly takes place in parks, to get me outside and away from the distracting internet.
And unlike the novel I wrote for National Novel Writing Month, it actually is fiction this time, as opposed to just mostly writing about my own thoughts and experiences since leaving the UK and then changing my name to 'Simon' so no one would notice (not that I'd ever allow human eyes to see it).
This new thing
Art by Paul Lasaine
I'm excited about this new thing, and it'll hopefully consume a lot of my remaining time here in Taiwan before I head to (probably) Thailand for new Asian antics next month. I say 'hopefully,' because without the pointless deadline of NaNoWriMo, it's likely I'll fall back on old habits, like taking extremely extended walks to get through audiobooks, or writing blogs about writing instead of actually doing the writing. Oh dear.
Alright, I'll stop procrastinating and crack on then. Because this one won't contain scandalous caricatures of people I know, and could even be surprisingly good, I might even let you read it this time. In the meantime, here's some juvenilia - a story I wrote when I was arguably at my creative peak, aged six, starring what I imagined to be myself. And my magic wardrobe, of course. Enjoy!
