writing, writing, wrating, wcrastinating, procrasting, procrastinating.

Yesterday was a glorious day in Winchester: the clouds had dissipated, the sky was beautiful blues and there was an airy breeze that was a nice respite from the weather I'm used to back home. I never really get to appreciate it because I usually keep myself locked up in my room scrolling through vast pictures of men, hipsters smoking (men) and meme's (hahaha, no I just look at men) on Tumblr.

So I go out with my housemate, bask in the weather and get on planning my novel; and it was great. I got some ideas, character appearance  setting and considered different influences for my characters, plot and the like. Fantastic! So I think I'm going to start writing today, but I think 'Well, no point if I'm going out tonight, I'll definitely work on it all day tomorrow.'

And guess what, guys? I did SWEET FUCK ALL.

I've been sat, stuck scrolling through Tumblr and music videos and impulse buying Azaelia Banks' weird new track 'YUNG RAPUNXEL' (or whatever it is) and now I'm procrastinating even further just by writing this post.

Here's a picture OF A HORSE.

Seriously though, I'm finding it bloody hard to actually motivate myself. I've got this great idea and it has so much potential so unfortunately, I've just let myself do other menial tasks in order to not do it. Why, do you ask? Because I've been struck by a lethal case of self-sabotage.

I mean, why write about it if its never going to be as good as it is in your head? Why present it to everyone else if it may not live up to my expectations? Its like a baby that is ready to be born and I think 'wait, stay in my uterus! I'm not ready for you yet!' - Thankfully I have neither a baby or a uterus, or a vagina otherwise that would be some crazy shit. But if I can't 'birth' my idea, so to speak then it just builds up and up and feels ready to burst from my head.

So the best thing I can think of, and it scares me a bit and I'll panic and cry and whatever, is just to let it happen. Write it out. If I don't exorcise this baby it'll become a demon and, I don't know, make me use ouija boards and like country music or something.

So here I go. To Tumblr. Tumblrrr, Tumblriting, triblriting, wriblrting, writing.