Conversations with the self.

Just a little something I ended up writing when I found myself doodling instead of making notes for One More Day. For those unaware doodling = drawing random useless crap.

Why are you staring at the page?

Seriously, you're just stalling now. One new page. One. And already you've gone through six doodles and a scribble, before christening that abomination "Lucha Bunny".

Why? And don't give me that writer's block crap! That excuse is too convenient. So come one, why are you still stalling? You have the characters, you have the bones of a plot, you have a conversation, so go for it! Write! And if you say "But I'm already writing" I'll kick your ass.

And yes, I know that by extension I would be kicking my own ass, but its the prinicple of the thing that matters. And don't look at me like I don't know what I'm saying!

Well?

Dear God, whay are you still here? Apart from being in class, dipstick! Christ you're useless. And quit doodling! Enlarging full stops counts as doodling... So does thickening letters.

Why are you not writing that story?

Why! Why? Why?! *sobs*

Shut up, it's out of my system now. Just start the damn conversation. No it doesn't need to be perfect, just start writing. And I don't care that you're fighting off sleep! Its your own fault for getting that soup in the first place.

Asshole.

...

p.s You're still drawing. Seriously, stop it. That sword only looks less impressive as you fill in colours.
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Getting that far inside my head is scary isn't it? Of course it is. Nod and smile and all that. And yes, I am of course aware that the internet, being an abstract entity with little physical substance is in itself unable to either nod or smile.

Needless to say I started that conversation, and am now wrestling with the above voice over filling in the next page. *sigh* The saga continues, I guess.

I wonder if I should take up dance classes. Not because I like dancing (I'm about as graceful as a lame ox spontaneously combusting, which, though it may appear graceful to certain breeds of pyromaniac, is not all that graceful), but because its an excuse to get out more often.

Fuck it.

Like a fox.