Oh dear.

Well that was a fairly depressing way to mark my 100th blog post... but oh well. To be fair most of them have been pretty much completely irrelevant and or stupid. But hilarious! Or so I like to think.

So, still feeling crappy, but I have chocolate milk, and today I wrote a scene in which an innocent old man gets shot.
Not really. He totally deserved it.

On the other hand, writing is slowing down a little, as the big exciting scenes grow thin on the ground because... well, because I've got over-excited and written them all, leaving myself with only the piffling little filler scenes to write.
This depresses me for two reasons:

1: There should not BE any filler. If it's not important, it shouldn't be in there. That's what good writing is.

2: In my quest to write big exciting scenes, I am just coming up with more and more random plot points to facilitate said big exciting scenes. The story therefore deviates quite significantly from my original idea, and I've completely lost track of what genre - if any - it fits into.

Oh well. I wrote a scene where an old man gets shot. And a scene where people have sex in a little shed thing at Southampton Docks.

That's got to count for something, right?

Yeah I bet my parents are proud.