Bail Me Out!

My need for self-flagellation is immense. Must be. Why else would I do this? Climb mountains just because they're there, get inspired by the words "One giant leap for mankind", dream up stupendous air castles and then try to build them. I put the Priori of Scion to shame.

Ah, who am I kidding? I've gotten so lazy these days that the least effort sends me on these flights of self-pitying fancy.

You guessed it, I'm in trouble with my book. Bloody book. Stinking, mucky, pathetic, pretentious, sorry-assed excuse for a book which isn't worth the electrons it burns out as it sits on my computer screen. Oh, shitty book.

I don't have writers' block, OK? Read this post. Hullo? I am writing. OK? These are words and they are coming out of my fingertips. My left brain is not suddenly bereft of words or barren of thoughts. Bereft! Look at that! I haven't used that word in years, but it just dripped off my keyboard ... effortlessly. Like rain from a thundercloud, only with a clattery sound rather than - you know - thundery.

This is clearly not writers' block.

What this is I don't know, but you gotta help me. I don't know what to do next with my novel... I am completely stuck, and so you have to pick something for me, and I will write it into the book and that will give me a way to move onward. Vote on something in the column on the right - this is stuff I have mined randomly from the dares flying around on the NaNoWriMo forums.

Ready? Set... vote!