I do my very best to update my blog everyday. 

I'm trying to include as much detail as possible to document my journey to a published novel.



November 28th 2019:


I Am Under No Illusion - No One Cares...


That isn't a title to beg for adoration, respect or love.


I'm not here for instant recognition or even gratification. I don't want millions of followers, all for the sake of a picture of the crack of my arse. It's like everything in life, when you're starting out. No one cares. Who am I? I'm not an authority on any subject. Not even ones that examination boards may have certified me against. Much of that is attributed to some loosely based focus on the chosen subject for two weeks to embed surface knowledge and scrape through an I.T. exam.


Trust me. I do not consider myself special, entitled or deserving of anything. That's why I'm so content with my position in life. As long as I'm creating what I want to create, whether that be music, words, poems or a novel. It's a long and slow task, but it's fun and I enjoy it. That really is enough for me.


I'm still on the second draft, not much has really changed in that regard. Can't remember what I mentioned in the last update but having just checked. I'm on page 123 of 356 - 131673 words. That really only signposts the progress for me personally. Like I said, I started this over a year ago and although the end is not yet in sight in my mind. I'll get there....eventually.


One thing that this second draft has provided me. Is more of a clear narrative. Having read it through from the beginning again and to where I am in the story now. I know I'm going to shift chapters around. One in particular and have that - the start of the book. I think the current starting is rather too much of a vomit of thinking. It felt a little too rushed or hurried to get moving. Whereas the main setting is specific and I want that to become a character in itself. I've therefore made a note to shift everything. I think it becomes more engaging straight away.


I'll probably change more than a couple of chapters. There's something fun, scary and intimidating about this editing stage. At times, I note the parts that make no sense. Other times, the parts that I myself am actually enjoying reading based on pure excitement. I want to experience emotions throughout the whole thing. That may not be possible and I suppose it may work for me but someone else could consider it a pile of shit. Only time will tell. I can't be afraid of that perception from anyone. It won't be accessible, agreeable or even stimulating for everyone. It's the precious few, I'd want to engage with.


In life, there are genuine people. I consider myself truly genuine. Most importantly I'm not lying to myself and I am inherently good. At the same time. I am under no illusion - no one cares.


Until Next Time.


Do Good Things!




November 13th 2019:


Well....I haven't finished!


I've finished the story, sure. That though, isn't the end.


In terms of words, I'm at 131,034 - this is already the second draft. Word count remains relatively insignificant to me personally. This keeps on increasing and decreasing, either are fine with me. Much of my time is being taken up with reading, editing and adding in everything that I feel necessary to move it forward.


I haven't been religious in the pursuit of updating this blog because well I'm trying to get the 'work' done. I'm not though referring to this as work. It's enjoyable but I don't  want to be one of those people who 'just talks' about things. Usually, I will admit myself when I say I'm going to do something. I do it. Which I've kept up with thus far in my life.


It's been one hell of a journey so far. I said from the beginning that I hoped to get it completed by September this year. That would then be a year and 'done'. I've dedicated so much time to this and you certainly need to focus on nothing but what you're writing. That in itself is difficult when work and other such distractions surround you. Like trying to complete IT certs, and changing jobs AGAIN. Commuting. Maintaining the enigma. Singing songs that no one will hear. Writing words that will never be read. I keep coming home with notepads. I fill them. One by one. I fill them with words. Words that make no real sense. Just a flood of subconscious.


I often times, consider not writing this or updating it. I no longer have an Instagram account. It was originally my choice. I then attempted to log in and seems it's been removed altogether due to copyright material. I'm not entirely sure what that relates to! All of the material was mine. So, seems odd. I may return one day. Not sure what I got from it to be perfectly honest, it became just another distraction and I myself could feel as if I was becoming ever more vacuous. There's only so much sun drenched perfection, scenes of fake happiness and pretension that I can digest. That's a very sweeping comment, but one I'll stick to for the time being. I'm not one for spying unless it involves voyeurism.


I'm excited to start another one, I make notes on that one too. Should come relatively easy. I have my characters. I have the tone I have the narrative. It's ready but like I keep saying. I can't or won't start that one until this is all done.


Not sure first person on this one - I'll see how it feels.


The only part of me that thought I was alive is the part I search for within you. It's the part that I now know is missing. In life, it seems my indecision has paved the way toward my future. A simplified passenger in all and everything. I continue to hunt. With it brings fear. A concern. What if I have everything that I once thought was real. Reveal a decision, so many would find a surprise. I can continue with hope in my heart. Will hope turn to fiction or will I be the star of my own biopic? The end only known if I choose the conclusion. Act on my impulse. I like the romance in the definitive decision. No one can misinterpret your intentions. You could leave a note with empty pages laced with intricate details of all your offerings, your misgivings and regrets. Then again, choose to disappear to a tree on a hill, decorated only in darkness. Illuminate the leafless branches with the full beams of your headlights. Lay out a record player. Perhaps power it off your car battery. Delicately remove the soundtrack you wish to dance the last experience to. Inform the authorities of your location. By the time they reach, the record will crackle in perpetuity. Never mind, it won't be taken seriously anyway and rightly so.


For each and every day I check. I keep looking. The day I left. You should have come running. You didn't. How unhealthy. I can't help but be completely jealous and I clearly, obviously and evidently have no right at all to be the one to feel it. If I spend too much time considering jealousy, it loses it's purpose. I lose my own. I can't go on like this. I won't.


Can I be saved by irrelevance. Should I be considered in the same breath as ruminative. I only lean with a heavy elbow, supporting a glass of liquor, chiming with melting ice cubes. That I think. I hope supports my creativity. My expulsion of tranquility. For that matter, any words that end abruptly with 'ity'. Shall I not learn to be horrified?


If I playfully imagine my finger upon this glass. It's no longer a glass. I'm closer to you. Albeit through the gin we shared. I can nestle in heavy, my mouth in your neck. With the warmth of my exhalation, you have no choice but to tilt your neck away through panic that we will devour each other. It's our waiting, our nuances that will cause this passion to conflagrate. You can avert your eyes all you wish. I can hold back my kiss. You know this has been inevitable. You know it's our time. With a beat, our foreheads rest upon each others and with the feeling of righteousness. That we owe this to ourselves. We owe it to each other. This moment is yours and mine. I lose myself in you.


I won't make excuses.


This one too, will write itself. Whether you appear within is self evident. This story is yours.


Until Next Time...


Do Good Things!

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