So it turns out my capacity to talk about myself, my writing, and stories in general is more or less infinite. Nobody is shocked. Well, me, a little. I never intended to write here this regularly.* It creates expectations. (That should be read in a deep and portentous voice: Expectaaa-tionss…!) I’d just started to wonder: What happens if I go on holiday? (Just because I haven’t had one this year doesn’t mean I won’t. I have plans. Plans!) Or what if I get sick? Or suffer a traumatic brain injury that renders me aphasic? (Okay, in the event of that last one: Stop writing blog. Stop writing altogether. Go insane. Suicide. Death.)
But now at least I have an answer to one of those questions. What happens if I get sick? Apparently I just become even less coherent than usual and I get to share it with you. Because I’m living my life out loud all of a sudden.
Raven: Up to much?
Me: Moaning quietly and trying not to focus my eyes and thus prevent the blinding pain in my head.
There. Wasn’t that thrilling? Time to listen to the new My Chemical Romance album and embrace better living through chemistry… But I will in all likelihood be back tomorrow with even more insightful and brilliant tales of how I can’t walk across my living room without falling over. Or I’ll be better. Who knows? Aren’t you just on the edge of your seat?
P.S. Turning off the mobile version of the site as a test. Let me know if you a) hate it, b) prefer it this way.