Thursday, 2 June 2011

All Evidence to the Contrary...


No really. I may have had little more than a handful of hours to write these last few weeks, and perhaps I'm  terminally plothopping, and ok, so I'm really, really bad at finishing things.

But you know what?

I'm still a writer. Because, you see, no matter what I do, all I want need is to write, to tell the stories of all those people roaming around my head like so many plot bunnies dust bunnies tumbleweeds. I can't seem to stop. Even when I have no pen at hand, no paper close by, scenes and conversations run through my head and I curse myself for not having a dictaphone. I'll see something on the street, hear a snippet of someone talking on the phone/to their neighbour/to the waiter, and there it is, that bit of plot I've been missing. Or maybe a new plot, who knows.

According to some of my friends, I even have conversations with myself.          o.O

So here's my statement of the day:


and maybe, one day, soon I'll be an author, too.

What about you, my dearies? What convinces you that writing is what you're meant to do?
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