I am currently re-reading the book I got for a writing class last semester –> “Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft” by Burroway & French x2. It is written in a very down to earth, laid-back style that I find particularly easy to read. Books that pontificate for pages on some fussy point or another tend to get chunked in the nearest trash receptacle. Books that I find helpful tend to look like this:

And there is excellent advice in this book. I am even finding information that I missed on the first go-through. One of the bits of advice that I did *not* miss is on the very first page. And that is:

Whatever Works
The Writing Process

The whole first section of this book is on the act of just sitting your ass down in the chair and getting to it. I don’t know about other writers but, I am guilty of the “social media” school of procrastionation. There is SO MUCH Internet out there, people. I would be remiss if I weren’t reading my email or exchanging “Blazing Saddles” quotes on my Facebook or even just looking longingly at Dragon*Con galleries. For hours.

“Writing Fiction” offers some great tips on how to get in the habit of writing. I really like the thought of writing as a habit. It has got to be much less offensive than smoking as a habit, yes?
Upon waking, every day, I should come in and commit to words the crazy dreams that I had the night before; or, maybe the adventures in hobbling around a dark house with leg cramps while avoiding the kitties [whose favorite game is to play speed bump in front of the stairs.] I know those are not terribly exciting subjects. But, the idea is to write ~anything~ just to force it into habitual routine.

So look forward to a great deal more random bits of writing popping up on here. I promise to write about the cats only once in a while.

— MIDNIGHT -_
ME: Feeling a touch sleepy plus I have a small ton to do tomorrow, some of it early. I will go to bed. But first I will finish the nifty conversation with Mister Man and see this clip* he was talking about.

— 2 AM —
ME: Crapses. That is not really what I intended to do! Furthermore, I am no longer sleepy. But I really have to get some rest. I will lay down and hopefully, once I relax and get comfy, I’ll just drift off.

BED**: Oh, you think so, do you? Moo ha ha ha.

BED: . . .

BED: Hm. I really need to work on my evil laugh.

— 2:45 AM —
ME: *snooze snooze snooze*

— 3 AM —
ME: *back cramps into new and exciting position* AWAKE, OW OW OW OW! Hot shower and Advil, to the rescue!

— 3:30 AM —
ME: *lightly snooze lightly snooze*

BED: GOTCHA!

ME: ARGH! Hip cramp! *flail*

ME: Oh, and btw. REALLY UNIVERSE?!?

ME: I’ll just hobble around the bedroom, hopefully quietly, until this passes.

— 4:00 AM —

ME: *toss turn toss* grrr rackin’ frackin’ farga’ rarga *toss turn*

BED: 🙂

— 5 AM —

ME: *gives up and takes a gulp of Children’s Benadryl*

— 8:30 AM*** —

PHONE ALARM: Boop! Boop! Twitter! Boop!

ME: *Charlie Brown frustrated yelp*

* – clip = Kevin Smith’s “Too Fat for Forty”, one of his Q & A seminars. And we wound up watching the whole thing. Because it was freaking hilarious. AND quite introspective. I came away with new respect for the writing process.

** – Our bed is evil. Perhaps because, over the years, we have managed to squash flat each and over coil. I don’t know. But it is like sleeping on a concave section of flinty ground.

*** – I wish that I was making this shit up.