Paid in Blood

06:18 upset tummy, mouth like the bottom of a bird-cage, 1,500 words written, another day over and deeper in debt.

But the words keep coming, keep coming.

I have to say that this morning's "story" is probably crap, more a melodramatic, tearful, indulgent troll through a load of old guilt-wrecked memories.

But sometimes it's like that. Sometimes a story comes out word by aching word, sometimes they scream out like joyous, frantic music, perfectly formed. Sometimes the phrase is verbal diahorrea and it smells like it.

Sometimes it just doesn't feel like it's working.

It doesn't matter. The muscles are exercised, the pipes remain open. Even if just one sentence is worth it, it's worth it.

Remember, every blank day is a day nearer being dead. You never get those days back.

Today I have to pick up a car. I'm getting dropped at the garage two hours before the car is due to be ready as Deb & Bridie have things to do. This afternoon PJ and I are off to Wembley to watch England v Estonia. Tonight a family game of monopoly is booked (PJ cheats)


but I have WRITTEN and it's only 06:25

I might write while I wait for the car. I'll take the laptop and a couple of books.



alx