A girl with a bird she found in the snow, that flew up her gown and that's how she knows that God made her eyes for crying at birth, then left the ground and circled the earth.
There is a merciful breeze tonight that is cooling my skin and helping to alleviate the burning in my heart. I am lonely as I type. I haven't felt a loving touch on my skin in so damn long. I need a hand placed in comfort upon my brow. Not a body taking, taking from me. Not a quick release and an even quicker exit. I'm not made for that sort of thing, night after night. I am a being more designed for the continued presence of someone in my life, not merely a slide show of contorted faces and sighs in the darkness. The disease is alright for a little while - I just prefer the antidote.
The daylight hours were spent enjoying a day that was low on humidity and high on wind. The windows flung open to a calm, overcast sky made me feel a little sad, though allowed me to meander through some more of this story, whilst giving me a chance to assuage the melting I have been forced to endure these last weeks. Wasted a good deal of my time text messaging rather than writing, so had to buckle down in the late afternoon to achieve my daily target. Perhaps after all this time it would be useful for me to explain how my days are filled. I haven't yet given a daily break down of how I am going about writing this damned book. So here goes:
8:00am-10:00am - I wake any time between these hours. Sometimes it is right on 8o'clock, other times it isn't until just before 10. This may seem late to a lot of respectable working folk, but for one, I'm not respectable working folk, and two, I suffer from chronic insomnia. Most nights I won't get to sleep until around 3 or 4am, often times later than that. It is taxing, but so it goes. The tranquilisers help, but only so much. After waking, I stumble to the bathroom and take a whizz. I flush the toilet, wash my hands and stare into the mirror at myself. I cringe at the zombie staring blank-eyed back at me, splash a little water on my face, and go out to the kitchen. I make breakfast. This usually consists of four pieces of grainy toast with either peanut butter or vegemite on them, and a tall glass of skim milk. After breakfast is over, I go back to my room and turn on my computer.
10:00am-12:00pm - I spend the first half hour or so going over most of what I have written the previous day. I find that revising what I have written for a while in the mornings helps me get back into the swing of things; reacquainting me with the story, and rectifying any little mistakes or pieces of shabby writing. Then I begin again. I have never been a great planner of my writing. Instead, I try to let the story go where it wants to go; nudging it in a particular direction every now and again. I take about five minutes every hour to check my email and stuff around on the Internet, or to get a drink. I leave my MSN messenger signed in, which is counter-productive at the best of times, but I don't mind chatting sometimes while I write. Mornings are never a particularly productive time for me, so I don't stress too much if I don't get a huge amount completed.
12:00pm-1:30pm - After a couple of hours of work, I take an extended break. I take a shower now, brush my teeth, give the Listerine a half hour to do its job, then have lunch. Usually this is a couple of sandwiches and a piece of fruit. Throughout the day I drink loads of water, especially with the heat the way it has been. I watch some Dr Phill, then get back into the swing of things.
1:30pm-5:30pm - This is when I sit at the computer and type, type, type. Some days I get a lot done, other days I battle. Either way, this is when the bulk of the work gets done. I'm always pretty good between these hours.
After 5:30pm is a lucky-dip. I'll either do a lot more work, or give up and fuck around watching TV and fluffing on the interwebs. Some days I do a full 8 hours of writing, others only 4 or 5. It doesn't matter either way. I just roll with the punches, so to speak.
Wow. What a boring existence this is when you lay it out in the harsh light of day. At least this novel is an entertainment extravaganza, or my life would be a complete waste. So... I'm sure this enlightened you all. Jesus, what a waste of time writing all of that. I should just delete it and start again. I didn't even include all the juicy bits, like when girls come over in the early afternoon and we spend the next hour and a half cutting into my writing time. Or when I decide that a bottle of absinthe is a much better idea than writing, so I get written-off instead. Or when I can't function because my sickness takes me over and I lie on the ground in a writhing heap all afternoon, sweating and attempting to stop my world from falling down around me. Nah, those bits are no fun for anyone except me. You sweet-hearted lillies don't want to hear about how I'm a mess and a wreck. Coz I'm so visceral, yet deeply inept.
Are you good at following instructions?
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