This is a blog so you’ll have to excuse it if it occasionally follows the rough contours of my mood. I got up today feeling like I have nothing interesting to say.
“Hmm, when has that ever stopped you?” I hear you ask. Yet I really don’t feel like writing. It could just be the hayfever. It’s bad today. My eyes are stinging. I also can’t believe it’s Wednesday already, or that I’m got so have to little time to myself before Friday. Thursday is pencilled in for a new podcast. We left it too long, but I think we both blame lockdown. It’s really easy to get inside your own head and forget the outside world.
Yesterday I took a look at that non-fiction book I’ve had on the back burner for the past year. I think I had a bit of a breakthrough with it. Problem is: today I’m not sure I have the self-belief to carry on with it. Without getting into my usual self-loathing schtick, I get really tired doing all these things with no success. I understand my short stories might not be most people’s cup of tea, but I find it hard to believe they can be nobody’s cup of tea. Not given the utter bilge I’m often sent by vanity press writers trying to promote their books. I mean, that stuff is unreadable. I know when my stuff is funny.
It’s probably a matter of promotion but I have no idea where I’d begin or if I have the energy. Today, I really want to be daft and do some drawings.
Last night I surprised myself by taking a break and watched a documentary called ‘Harmontown’. It’s about Dan Harmon, the creator of ‘Community’ and ‘Rick and Morty’, taking his podcast onto the road. I’m a fan, so I was entirely in the zone, watching a neurotic writer, with plenty of personal issues to riff about, dredge the dark corners of his mind for his humour. He normal in a world where normal people are made to feel abnormal.
Plan for today: cartoons and more Fiona Apple. Talking about neurotic writers with plenty of personal issues to riff about, two months later and this album is still on constant loop…