I am literally Madonna

Honestly I am. I only haven’t started a new blog because I like the url of this one. Seriously, Scattered Postcards is an inspired name.

Well, it appears that the time of year is nearly upon us. Not Christmas. Don’t talk to me about bloody Christmas. I’m sick of it already! I mean National Novel Writing Month (or ‘NaNoWriMo’, if you want to be really smart). Despite  everything that has happened to me this year, I am sooooo doing this again. I had absolute ball last year. Its all just writing material isn’t it? This time, my challange is to actually finish a story that is 50,000 words or a bit over. Even worse, I’m just going to start off with a random sentence on the 1st of November and then stick with whatever comes out. Bring it on.

Urgh!

Dear sweet lord, I am bored today. All I have done all day is eat grapes, drink Kronenbourg, listen to Greenday and fiddle around on the intranet. I know I should be writing but I can’t be bothered.

The thing is that I owe some writing to a forum, but I don;t feel like writing it, and I feel guilty trying to write anything else. It’s a vicoius circle. I’m trapped between a rock and a hard place, desperately trying to pick between the fire and the frying pan (and other assorted clliches).

Balls.

I also think ‘balls’ might be my new favourite phrase, along with ‘Damn it all to pus-spewing, blood-splattered hell’. That too.

So, yes, I’m going to fuck about with my blog for a bit, because I can;t bring myself to do any writing. Sue me.