I love the smell of pussy in the morning.
And not just the kind with freshly shaven hair, either.
The kind with pent up, latent homosexual rage and a hard on for moi.
That's quite alright, though. It gives them some purpose in life - and who am I to deny them that? Hate on, little fella. Hate on.
My friendly neighborhood cockbag who's been leaving the comments does have a point, however.
I haven't been accomplishing very much lately.
In fact, I haven't written a word in months.
The fact that Annabel still puts up with me is a testament to her patience, because I can't even bring myself to put a single word down on paper. Even the thought of blogging makes me cringe.
They say writer's write. And if that's the case, maybe I'm not a writer after all.
I've made a promise to finish the current script we're working on. And whatever it takes, I'll finish it.
But beyond that? I don't know.
4 comments:
Have faith. While there ARE some writers who can do the every day thing and simply produce, produce, produce, I've always taken the writers write thing to mean that if you're still doing it five years from now, you're a writer.
OBVIOUSLY you have to write, but it's pretty normal to go through dry spells.
Please don't scare me: "Even the thought of blogging makes me cringe."
Whatever you do with screenwriting, fine. But do NOT stop writing a blog. Please.
I am a gem! lol ;)
I second Annabel's emotion.
Someone left his pie out in the rain...
Cake is only for writers.
Get back to work!
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