Blogger, Interrupted
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Sandra enters, whingeing.

No real problem here - just an attempt on my part to quit playing around and do some writing. Real writing. Blogging feels like writing, you see. My fingers move on the keyboard, and words appear. I even try to maintain some control over spelling and sentence structure. But I don't have to worry about keeping my story straight. Not really. What you see is what you get, and what you get is generally whatever is on my mind at the moment. It's different when I'm trying to write a story. I have to make people up, and then I have to remember whom I've made up, and try not to turn my blondes into redheads in the course of the story, unless there's Clairol involved. And then I have to make things happen to my people. It's all very complicated, you understand.

Of course you understand. Some of you are real writers who write real books, not wannabes like me. And the problem is, the more I blog (and read blogs and Tweets and so on and so on) the less I write.

Jamie Ford quoted Orson Scott Card today, on Twitter: ""Writer's block is your subconscious mind telling you 'this sucks!'"

So today, I decided to spend a lot more time writing. It was Kathryn Magendie's doing, really. She said "Trust me when I say that if you really want to write a novel, or stories, then you must practice your craft and the only way to practice is to just sit down and write." And that's what I did. I went to Creative Writing Prompts , chose a prompt at random, and started writing a story that began Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath, and walked toward where he was sitting. I'm still writing it. I have no idea how this story is going to end, but I have characters - Angela among them - and a couple of things have happened. I am determined to finish this story.

This is the thing. I love words. That's a good start, isn't it?

Also, I love stories. And furthermore...I love to tell stories. My purse is full of little scraps of paper on which I have written words and lines and ideas for stories. There are pieces of stories lying around everywhere. They are crap. Even I know that.

Here, then, is my promise. From now until November, I shall stop procrastinating - at least about this one thing - and write every day. On any given day, I shall not blog until I have made a sincere effort to write something that has a plot and characters.

Come November, I shall have had enough practice at daily writing that 50,000 words will be a walk in the park. :(right)

After November 30, it's all a blur. My crystal ball is on the fritz.

Sandra exits, still whingeing, but with her shoulders back and a determined look on her face.