Didn't write anything today. I did tinker with my CV, to the extent that I stole a new layout for it and tried to work out why someone would hire me. I didn't get very far. Not because I couldn't think of a reason for someone to hire me. There are loads of great reasons to hire me. I just couldn't succinctly put them to paper. Which is, I suppose, a good reason not to hire me. And evidence that writer's block affects everything bar blog posts.
There's a big post coming. Not this one though. There will be flowers mentioned, but not pictured.
I didn't realise that lingering sniffles was my 300th post.
Listen to Robot Man by The Aliens.
I gave almost 50 pages to someone today. They had words on them and everything.
Sometimes you can't shout, scream, sob and rant in indignation, outrage, anger and sorrow. You want to. But you can't, because you can't understand what you'd be shouting about; it's not about you. And shouting, screaming, sobbing and ranting won't change that, and it won't make anything better. And all you want is for it to be better, or never have happened at all.
Flowers. Tomorrow. Big post. I'm going all horticultural.
And real writing. That you won't read til it's out in hardback at the beginning of next year. It'll be worth the wait though.