Its November bitches. Ehem.
November is a very special month for me. Becoz its my birthday. Hahaha. Its like a month long celebration. Cewah. Macam sangat special.
Actually not. But I do kinda like it when November came. (The anticipation of presents kut.. Hehehe. Sungguh materialistic)
But my birthday.. not till few days yet.. (uiks.. agak hampir jua), but that's not this post is all about.
No sirree. I am writing because of NaNoWriMo. I sign up. Yeps. Yeay for writing. Boo for procrastination. Knowing me, I haven't started anything yet. My word counts is so pitiful I am embarassed to announce it to you guys.
November is a very special month for me. Becoz its my birthday. Hahaha. Its like a month long celebration. Cewah. Macam sangat special.
Actually not. But I do kinda like it when November came. (The anticipation of presents kut.. Hehehe. Sungguh materialistic)
But my birthday.. not till few days yet.. (uiks.. agak hampir jua), but that's not this post is all about.
No sirree. I am writing because of NaNoWriMo. I sign up. Yeps. Yeay for writing. Boo for procrastination. Knowing me, I haven't started anything yet. My word counts is so pitiful I am embarassed to announce it to you guys.
But its the thought that count. Ha! Right? No?
Writing day after day (more like a day in aweek after a day in a week), I found out that being a writer is tough. Finding a coherent plot is a tough steel of nut to break. Writing headlong recklessly is even tougher. I found that I liked editing my stories, damn it. And pondering at the words.
Shit. I am suddenly getting cold feet. WHY DO I EVEN SIGN UP FOR THE STUPID THING WHEN I HAVE ABSOLUTE NO PREPARATION NOR CLEAR IDEA FOR A NOVEL? I can never finish this in time. Argh..
:: typing furiously in imagination due to writer's block ::
Oh, I wrote/typed my story in another blog. If you care enough to look in my blogger profile. However, access is restricted, unless I am prepare to submit myself to pure humilliation.
:: still walking round and round thinking what to write ::
Writing day after day (more like a day in aweek after a day in a week), I found out that being a writer is tough. Finding a coherent plot is a tough steel of nut to break. Writing headlong recklessly is even tougher. I found that I liked editing my stories, damn it. And pondering at the words.
Shit. I am suddenly getting cold feet. WHY DO I EVEN SIGN UP FOR THE STUPID THING WHEN I HAVE ABSOLUTE NO PREPARATION NOR CLEAR IDEA FOR A NOVEL? I can never finish this in time. Argh..
:: typing furiously in imagination due to writer's block ::
Oh, I wrote/typed my story in another blog. If you care enough to look in my blogger profile. However, access is restricted, unless I am prepare to submit myself to pure humilliation.
:: still walking round and round thinking what to write ::
Comments