I’m writing this on a brand new netbook, a sleek Packard Bell number fresh off the plane from exotic Hull. Or train, or van, whatever.
Unfortunately (fortunately) for you lot, the majority of the writing I’ll be doing on this bad boy tonight will be giving Barry magic witty and insightful things to say, writing tomorrow’s Blogomatic column and editing the shit (almost literally – still figuratively, but almost) out of that play thing I’m working on.
Oh, yeah. I finished it last night, but it’s about two and a half pages too long for what I’m shooting for so I need to take out the absolute worst parts before I can have a crack team of writers attempt to tear my little baby apart and make me cry like the boychild I am.
Here’re a couple of lines from the thing for you to whet your whistle:
If anyone wants me I’ll be in the bar.
There isn’t a bar, Charlie.
He pulls out a large hip flask as he departs.
Or the alley outside. Whatever.
Also, I just upgraded my writing software to the version just above the cheapest possible and one of the groovy new features is the ability to blow your page up to full screen and write without any distractions.
Which obviously makes it more terrifying than ever.