Skip to main content

Tick Tock Goes the Clock

Writing. Words. Worlds. Scribbles. Languages. Imaginations.
(This bit is entirely random, you may ignore it if you wish.)

This post is for everyone who says they are too busy to write - I plead guilty - so let me tell you (and myself) that being too busy to write is impossible! All you have to do is carry around a pen or pencil or writing device and paper or a notebook - if you'd rather write in there - then stop somewhere - it can be in the car for all I care - and start scribbling words.

Please don't tell me you walk to school or never sit down for a break from something or that you never ever have 1 minute or less when you are doing absolutely nothing. Because you will get an extremely skeptical, maybe even confuddled - or if I'm really shocked, a conbafflated look.

For those who don't know, confuddled is confused and something else, and conbaffleated is confused, baffled and frustrated all at once.

You can write when you're sitting in the car, you can write during any break you might get - unless it's a 10 second or so break, because then you don't really have time to do much other than take out the writing device and writing surface. But I highly doubt that someone would give you a 10 second break.

Actually I don't know how long it takes to get out a writing surface and device because it will vary, for example it would take longer with a notebook because you have to open it and find a blank page. And a mechanical pencil or pen might take off extra seconds by having to open the cap or press the button thing.

My point being that you can write at any time - unless you only write on the computer, that's a different matter all together. If you have paper and a writing device go ahead and scribble. I can't promise people won't be annoyed - the hazards of writing in front of company is again another topic - but if the person is ok with you writing, then write.

Write. Write. Write. Write. And... Write.

- Colette -

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Instrumental - a Short Story

  Instrumental By Germaine As quiet music filled the house, a cat black as night crept out of her basket. Pausing to stare at the nearest window, she watched the sun slowly burst out of the horizon. Warm light filled the room. Purring, she turned and padded downstairs to greet the pianist, who stopped playing only to stroke her. The cat nudged back his hand. In return, he smiled and continued to play. The cat rolled her eyes. Upstairs waited for her. When she reached the top, a white cat with bright green eyes met her. The black cat’s striking blue eyes flashed with recognition as she mewed a greeting. “Harpsichord! Finally, you’re awake.” “Woodwind, you were always an early riser. It’s no wonder that you’re already up.” Harpsichord answered. Woodwind purred at the compliment. “Come on, let’s see if Oboe and Bass are awake yet.” Oboe, a raven, was sleeping on her perch. Flashing Woodwind a mischievous grin, Harpsichord let out an ear-piercing screech. Oboe...

Slime Eels

-Guest post by ES- Looking for a strange creature to go in your book? This one's perfect and IT ACTUALLY EXISTS! Hagfish, or more commonly known as Slime eels, are a group of jawless soft bodied organisms that belong to the Myxinidae family. There are more than sixty different types of hagfish living in the midnight zone worldwide and not much is known about them. They have developed an extraordinary defense mechanism and are expert scavengers. I hope you will enjoy reading this post and find it very helpful. Food: Hagfish have an excellent sense of smell and touch but even though they have two tiny markings that could be mistaken for eyes Hagfish happen to be blind. Sight is not needed if you live in the inky blackness at the bottom of the sea, so they have adapted to the desolate landscape and have become expert scavengers. If they happen to stumble upon a dead fish, Hagfish lacking teeth have an extraordinary method of consuming their find. They use their rasping...

Ostrich short story

She holds her elegant neck high above the masses which she saunters through. Like a diva at a show she flaunts her plumes, casts a wary eye about for rivals, and turns up her nose at her drab brown and cream comrades.  Behold, an animal of distinction and refinement. Here is the ostrich, queen of the winged kingdom. Around her, antelope bow their heads in shame, cringing at their inferiority. Where she steps the grass seems to wither in embarrassment. Even the sun seems reluctant to disgrace her chestnut and ivory feathers. Stop. Look around. Sour musk lines the brisk breeze. She lowers the foot which was held aloft a moment ago, her previously serene expression now one of incandescent disapproval. The antelope prick up their ears. A glimpse of golden pelt in the grass and an explosion of hooves signifies the beginning of the chase. She runs like a demon, head pointed forward and wings outstretched. Long legs kick up turf, spraying it into the streak of gold fur b...