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Ah, the joys of being a writer. Technically, there's not much cost involved, is there? All you really need is a laptop, or a typewriter, hell, maybe even just a pen and a notepad. Not much cost at all. But then again, there's the need to spin ideas from one's head. There's the tough bit. Ideas have no cost, and yet are priceless. You have to pluck them from the air and hope their good enough. And sometimes you can't pluckin' pluck. Like me. I've got so many projects I have to write right now and the clock is steadily ticking. I have one definite telemovie to finish by next week (and may have another on my plate with a similar deadline), a pilot for a TV show, a corporate video and of course, my own little projects. Ah, the joys of plucking. The whole weekend I tried to write. And what did I do instead? Stared at the computer for a bit. Then re-arranged items on my desktop. Then I backed up some files and decided to defrag the computer. Since it's defraging, I decided to watch an episode of 'The Green Wing' on DVD. That turned to five episodes. Then I met up with a friend and had a drink, complaining about how I couldn't get 'in the mood' to write. And that's the thing, isn't it? If you're not in the mood, you just plain aren't. You can't force it. But I need to. Deadline's are looming, people, and due to my track-record of being able to conk out thirty pages a day people assume I shall shower them with the seeds of my deranged brain instantly. Bugger that. I suppose I shouldn't complain, considering I'm doing what I've always wanted to do in the first place: tell stories in different forms of media. I get to direct, write, compose, everything I always wanted to do. But, fuck me, it's tough to get in the mood these days. I feel like one of those housewives with a horny husband who's feeling up her left tit and she turns to him and says, "sorry, luv, I've got a headache". Ah, joy.
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