If I've discovered anything during this whole NaNoWriMo exercise in driving myself mad in the race to 50,000 words it's that I can be highly productive between the hours of 9 and 11am. I always considered myself a late night/early hours writer, probably due to leaving things perilously close to deadlines and having filed a thousand reviews overnight after returning from the theatre. It's a bit of a writer's cliché, just like this garret I'm sitting in as I get steadily pissed before slumping over the keyboard, but I suppose the hours of darkness can be very inspiring. Yet this new found office-hours productivity - although, when I think about it, it's nothing I didn't do at the newspaper when I was there - is a sign that this eight month tenure (it might go on, it depends on the money) as a 'writer' is not all about sitting at home fucking about on the internet. Note, though, that I use the word 'productivity' rather than 'creativity'. While some of the 27,000+ words I've written for the novel thus far aren't too embarrassing, it is all about quantity over quality. Just like Carol Smillie off of television's Strictly Come Dancing, I'll end up with a rough diamond that needs a bit of severe polishing come November 30. I'll probably just print it out and pop it all in a box to gather dust. But I will finish it, I know that now, and some mysterious bastard of a thing is compelling me to stick at the job. Writing those 1,700 words in the morning has actually replaced blogging this month as the first job of the day, the thing that gets me up and running and ready to swing into action. This afternoon it's back to the paid work, more research and scribbling. I'm thinking, though, that once the 50,000 words are out of my system, I could do something much more constructive with those hours. If I keep going like this in 2007 I'll be writing around 24 plays. As I've currently only found a home for two of these projects do you have a theatre that we could stage them in?
Uncomfortable few hours yesterday setting up a Livejournal for someone. My, that's a pig to make look like you want it, eh? I shan't be moving there.
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