Modern-Day Mercury

[If this isn’t self-indulgent I don’t know what is.]

So I’m volatile – liquid at room temperature – I’m meant to be a herald of commercial success. Perhaps I am, though not for myself.

I’m a muse – I can inspire writing in anyone and ideas a-plenty. I’ve always seen myself as a muse, but the mercurial thing – well, fits all too glove-like around the extent of my character.

Winged sandals and a penchant for bizarre and spontaneous trips. That’s me.

On the topic of me… [a topic I can’t truncate]

I’m this strange, flawed creature. I have a mercurial streak – but also a heart of gold (not yet robotic). I might not have a silver spoon – but my jaded mind leads to diamond clarity. Copper-wired veins ready to hook up to all and sundry, I can’t help but bleed ruby and blink sapphire. Soul as iridescent as opal.

I’m at least a tapestry of treasures.

I’m trying to be a better person, slowly. I’ll be better. See. Better.

Anyway… back to twitter…

Filed under: Re-Genesis, about me, ergonomic, hopes

Floating in the vacuum of space

 

Whatever falls in my path I have fun with it. I’m still not sure what to do with my life, but soon I will need a job. I will again return to the pits. Prepare myself for some personal agony, personal anxiety, and get hook up with a healthy dose of personal apathy to get me through each day.

 

Personally, I think it is rather cheeky to request eight hours of my time a day for the five out of seven, and only give me near-on one thousand pounds for the privilege each month. Then again, I’ve not met anyone willing to pay more, so I guess I have to put up. Cruel and unfair, this world, but there is nowhere else to go.

 

Pause for a moment thinking of the young Jensen floating in the vacuum of space with an ever-increasing bank balance.

 

I see a lot of people ahead of me, not altogether fairly either. I look at their work and scoff and turn cheek. That’s the luck of the draw though, someone must like that tripe, otherwise why would the author have had it published.

 

This week I trust in publisher’s and their amazing knowledge of great literature… or not.

 

Regardless, I have the distinct feeling everyone undervalues. Taken for granted, rather than picked for Granta.

 

I need to focus on writing these bloody stories I have in my head.

 

Continue with The Coconut Stopwatch, Trip, The Pack, The Boy Who Entered Dreamtime and The Formicary. The problem is picking just one to really focus on. I love them all like children and love the pace I’m going at. I have more ideas that I want to start on as well!

 

Too many ideas and not enough time to write them all.

 

I think I’m going to focus on The Coconut Stopwatch, as it is a collection of short stories, which means there is at least fourteen opportunities at accomplishment before the grand accomplishment of finishing the compilation.

 

I have my computer hooked up to the printer, a big yellow folder to hold the drafts, little bulldog clips, a new ergonomic pen. Now I mean business. I’m going to write the epics out. Place sections on here.

Filed under: Granta, about me, anxiety, bank, bulldog clips, ergonomic, hopes, job, novel, published, space, the novel, undervalued, vacuum, work, writing the novel