I am a novelist. I am a novelist. I am a novelist. I am. I am.
Repeat this every hour of every day, and eventually you will believe it. If you believe you are a novelist, your novel will follow.
I am watching Grey’s Anatomy too much. I am not sleeping well. I am making a powerpoint presentation on how to use the indefinite and definite articles a and the. I am considering taking a shower. I am wondering why I drank a ‘midorita’ last night (a Midori based margarita, if you were wondering).
I am not writing my novel, in case you hadn’t already guessed.
So that’s what this is. This is my space for wordy procrastination. Because it’s important to write every day. You have to wring those words out, even if all you are saying is how worthless your writing is. Here is where I will be blathering on about the random stuff going on around me, and also rambling about the progress of the novel I’m ostensibly writing.
This is then, I suppose, my writing journal. Why put it online? What kind of self-important, delusional writer believes people have any interest in their inner monologue? The answer is that I need something out in the world, even if it’s not my novel.