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The Incredibly Boring Life of a Pretend Writer

Hang on, wait… there has to be a way to fix this entry box so it is always 600 pixels wide. No… no… it’s not there either. Damn it. I can’t find it.

Maybe I can do it manually…

No… that’s not working either.

Screw it. Stop procrastinating and write this stupid thing so you can go cook some food and pretend like you accomplished something…

Wait, I need to draw a header image…

There. That’s better.

How long did all of that take? Okay… about an hour. That’s not bad… just need to keep going for three more.

Writing…

Yeah… who decided that I would do this for four hours a day? That guy was a jerk.

I’m thirsty… I wonder if I have any Sunny D left, or if I only have the cheap powder mix…

Okay. I’m clearly going to have to make a trip to the store if I’m going to get anything done today. I can’t drink the water. I need a new Brita filter for my bottle. I hate drinking out of the Brita bottle. I should have just shelled out for a pitcher, then I could use a cup.

Cups are much more manly.

Even if they’re plastic and come 4 for a dollar.

FOCUS!

Okay writing, writing, writing, writing…. yeah.. I really do suck at this. Why did I quit my job again?

Oh… yeah, so I could take naps…

No, this is the point…

Write, Matt.

Write, Damn it, Matt!

WRITE, YOU IGNORANT FOOL! YOU SHAME YOUR ANCESTORS WITH YOUR RABID, FART-SCENT BABOONARY!

Baboonary isn’t a word.

It is if I convince other people it is. There, it’s on the list.

You should call your dad, but it’s what, 1:30 in the afternoon, he’s at work. Wait, 1:30? Wasn’t it just noon a little while ago?

SON OF MONKEY WHORE!

Check the site stats. Maybe no one cares that you haven’t posted anything yet.

FUUUUUUUUUU—

Calm down. Calm down.

YOU CAN DO THIS. All you have to do is focus.

Maybe some caffeine…

I really should make a trip to the store.

……

Okay… No more stalling. You’ve been gone for two hours on a twenty-minute errand. You drank the caffeine. You smoked way too many cigarettes and listened to way too much of your audio book.

It’s go time now. You can do this.

Some music will help.

“It’s gonna be a happy New Year!”

STOP SINGING ALONG WITH THE SONG AND WRITE, YOU SMELLY, INSOLENT, PUTRID-FACED, TANGLE-BEARDED OAF!

Okay. Okay. Here we go…

 

I’m having a hard time with adjusting to working on my own. I miss being out of the house in a cubicle. Even when I had other things to do, it seemed like I was getting more done for myself just by not being at home…

That was genius  just another thousand words like that and you’re golden. Then you can start working on the novel.

No…no…NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT, IT’S BLOGGY TIMES NOW!

Okay, just get it out of the system for a while.

Okay… you can come back to that later. It isn’t novel times anyway, it’s blog times. You need to do things on the schedule or you’ll never get anything done.

I think I was working on writing while someone was paying me to do something other than that, the taboo of being a lazy bastard at work, added some sense of mystique and importance to my words. I needed to write them back then. It was for my sanity. Now, it’s too much like my job. Of course, since I’ve never been paid for it, I guess I should say it’s more like my court-enforced community service volunteer work at the rabid, homeless weasel shelter. 

That’s a great metaphor. Are you sure you want to leave it here? It might come in handy someday. You might not want to waste it right now.

Screw it, it’s actually in the damn post, unlike…. anything of substance  The metaphor stays! I can use it again later. It’s not like anyone actually reads this stuff anyway.

I’m getting hungry again.

I can eat when I’m done. Got to get done. GOT TO GET DONE!

HOOOO HA!

I really just need to learn to accept that my life has changed, and whether it is for the good or bad, I made the decision to change. 2013 is the year of living without fear. I shouldn’t keep worrying that I screwed up.

know I screwed up. I just need to move on from it now. 

Okay… okay… that’ll do. I can’t think anymore anyway. I’m way too hungry. I should just go and get some food. Maybe a soda.

I wonder if KFC is still open or if I’m going to have to go to McDonald’s.

I really need to go to the store…

 

 

Published by M.A. Brotherton

M.A. Brotherton is a writer, blogger, artist, and fat-kid from the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri. He’s tasted a little bit of everything the Midwest has to offer, ranging from meth-tweaking rednecks in massive underground cave complexes to those legendary amber waves of grain. When he’s not writing, he spends most of his time screwing around on the internet.

4 thoughts on “The Incredibly Boring Life of a Pretend Writer”

  1. Tracy Mangold says:

    No mistakes. Only possibility. But it is difficult to quiet the mind and get going but but but…as I keep telling myself…one page at a time…one page at a time…

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      I have such a hard time lately of getting focused. Too many things to distract me. On the other hand, it is very much scary land inside my head. I want to give more people tours of it.

  2. Skip says:

    Matt,
    I read these ramblings and get a kick out of them. You bring a smile to my face every time I read one of them.

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      As I was writing this last night, I was thinking, “I wonder how long I can write internal monologue before it becomes tedious to the reader.”

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