The whole One A Day thing has hit a bit of a lull for me recently, with most of my entries being even more phoned-in that normal. I can try – and probably succeed – to justify this distinct lack of quality (drunk, hungover, freelancing, girlfriend GETTING IN THE WAY etc.) but that would be taking the easy way out. I think it’s clear that I’m just flagging.
After writing entries that average about 300 words per pop (figure pulled from the top of my head, but likely to be true) it’s bound to happen. I’m running out of topics, I’m running out of new things to say and – dare I say it, especially in the wake of all my eulogising about the whole One A Day thing – I’m running out of motivation. I’m still absolutely compelled to do an entry per day, I’m committed to the experiment and I do fully intend to keep on going for the whole 253 more entries I am due to make. But there’s no denying I’m floundering. Stumbling over my own feet and unable to walk in a straight line. I’ve become the drunken vagrant of the One A Day collective.
But, just as the pissed up bum can – in theory, at least – become a functioning member of society again, I will endeavour to put myself on the road to recovery. If it involves regular series of posts, if it involves more writing about games, if it involves more insane rants about fruit – I will double my efforts and pull out something that I actually find reasonably interesting to re-read should I feel the need to do so. This is instead of how I’ve felt about my recent entries, which are tripe of the highest order.
I might even resort to some more lists. As long as they’re well-written, they still count. GALVANISED.
My computer is being a prick and not letting me put images on anything. It fucks up sometimes. I’ll leave one off this one. Just Google image search ‘oneaday’ and imagine my face cut and pasted onto the third image that pops up.
I’m no motivational speaker. I’m not one for arrogance, and I have an ego the size of a pea – most of the time. I don’t tend to get on board with causes, nor do I preach very much. I’m far too unmotivated to set up any kind of group activity, and I’ve never been to a book club. But there’s one thing I’ll say for Ian: when I say I’ll do something, I’ll at the very least try my hardest do it. This blog is case in point – I only decided to join the #oneaday thing because my good chum Rich was doing it and I felt a bit left out, but now as I look at all the others taking part I’m seeing people drop like flies for one reason or another.
Probably most shocking, however, was that of the chap who set the whole thing up, who has apparently signed out of this mortal (blogging) coil with this here message. I said before, I’m no motivational speaker. This isn’t a post trying to convince people to pick up their… fingers… and get writing again. I suppose more than anything it’s a comment on my disappointment. A lot of the people involved who have fallen by the wayside are scribes by profession, yet have seemingly found it too hard to churn out a few hundred words a day on any topic they want. This, frankly, is ludicrous. Though to be fair, if you can’t sit for ten minutes with a blank Word document and fill that page with ideas for blog entries then maybe you’re better off quitting. You should probably give up the writing gig too, as it’s evidently too hard to do a bit of work on any subject you want which should take you less than an hour to complete. Half an hour tops, really. And that includes editing a daft picture of yourself into every accompanying image.
I understand there are reasons, there are days you might be travelling, away from a computer or whatever else – and obviously this little piss about shouldn’t get in the way of real life happening. For example, I’d let you off a day if your Mum died. Only a day though. And I’m not judging or singling people out – especially as I don’t know 99 per cent of people doing it. I just find it incredibly disheartening if a bunch of writers can’t actually do – or can’t be bothered to do – what they’re supposed to be good at. I’m one of the least proactive people I know, so if I can manage it (while fitting in a trip to Sweden, visits to my girlfriend’s house in Manchester (I live in Bournemouth) and god knows what other social engagements) then so can you. Pull your finger out and get fucking writing. You’ll feel better about it in the morning.
I know this will bite me in the arse when I quit in a few weeks, but hey – I’ve outlasted a few of you. So ner.
Fuck it: I’M GOING BUKOWSKI ON YO’ ASSES.