"...I sometimes feel I'm sweeping the nation..."

Just looking at this blog, I realise I've not updated in almost two months. I managed to go the whole of July without typing a word. I mean, it's not like the time since June 10th has been uneventful; it's been packed. New baby. New job. New Dr Who costume. Teasers for the last Season of Lost. It's not like I've had nothing to write about. Odd.

Other things I've not written include any kind of fiction. I keep on trying to start, but end up failing. I seem to be as productive as Douglas Adams (early 80s on) only I don't have a publisher to lock me in a hotel room and refuse to let me out until I've written something. I'm not even sure that would work. It's not like I don't have ideas. I do. But it's the whole process of taking those ideas, those vague character notions, the stories (I hesitate to use the word "plot"), and weaving it all together in to at something at least bearing a slight passing resemblance to a coherent whole.

Now, reading back through this blog post; it's not that bad. I'm churning it out at a fair old pace, it's largely (typos, and the odd change of word) unaltered. It's not like I've been moving around sentences, changing paragraph structure, or indeed really doing much more than just typing the first thing to come in to my head. But it's working. Well, in as much as this is just meant to be a throwaway blog post that'll be the electronic equivalent of chip-paper tomorrow. Heck, with the speed the web moves it'll probably achieve that status in an hour or so.

So, why, when I have a screen in front of me in which to type fiction, do I freeze? Unable to commit to putting a word down in front of me. Even though, pinned to the top of the monitor is a quote from Paul Cornell reading;

"Don't agonise about what you're going to write. Have an idea. Write it. It will be bad. Then you re-write until it's good."

It's brilliant advice. Concise. Clear. To the point. Yet, I cannot get around to writing anything. From memory, my total finished fiction output since starting to attempt to write things properly amounts to four short stories, and really only one of them is any good. 25%. Not a bad hit rate, really. Oh, there's loads of fragments, starts of things, things that go nowhere. Some of these fragments are even quite good. But, rightly, no-one cares for fragments; they care for the whole. 

I really, really, must get on with at least one of the ideas. So, I've been listing them in my notebook (that's olde worlde pen and paper notebook; not a 'puter), in the hope that something will spark off. Other ideas, and notions. I'll get there in the end. Sooner, or later. 

Probably later...