I think I have an infestation of such entities. It's forced me to rewrite a number of stories that I thought were excellent. Because they are not excellent. They are terrible.
My gut feeling is that when one starts to write regularly, like exercise in general, one gets 'better' at it. There has definitely been a tipping point for me (this year) where I feel that I have a stronger grasp on pacing, and the structure limits I'm working with.
The thing probably lives in the same place as the Sock-Thief Gremlin and the Thing That Makes Sure You’re Wearing a White Top When You’re Eating Beetroot.
By the way, the FD Troll pictured looks suspiciously like Grogu’s brother.
I had to google Grogu. Apparently, it is from Star Wars, not something I have ever seen. A film featuring somebody in a very unconvincing monkey costume and a motorised waste paper basket isn’t something I would watch.
The Beetroot Demon is also highly skilled with any foodstuff containing cooked tomatoes. It got my clean shirt within less than an hour of me putting it on the other day.
I can see why you've drawn that conclusion, but you're mistaken. There is no troll, there's only the invisible imp that sits on your shoulder as you write that first draft whispering subliminal delusions of genius until you type 'The End'. Then he jumps back into the walls and laughs and laughs and laughs.
I think I have an infestation of such entities. It's forced me to rewrite a number of stories that I thought were excellent. Because they are not excellent. They are terrible.
My gut feeling is that when one starts to write regularly, like exercise in general, one gets 'better' at it. There has definitely been a tipping point for me (this year) where I feel that I have a stronger grasp on pacing, and the structure limits I'm working with.
Best of, with the writing, as ever!
Any particular psalm that you think works best??
I always swear by Psalm 91.
Bonum est confiteri Domino, et psallere nomini tuo, Altissime:
ad annuntiandum mane misericordiam tuam, et veritatem tuam per noctem,
in decachordo, psalterio; cum cantico, in cithara.
Quia delectasti me, Domine, in factura tua; et in operibus manuum tuarum exsultabo.
Quam magnificata sunt opera tua, Domine! nimis profundae factae sunt cogitationes tuae.
Vir insipiens non cognoscet, et stultus non intelliget haec.
Cum exorti fuerint peccatores sicut foenum, et apparuerint omnes qui operantur iniquitatem, ut intereant in saeculum saeculi:
tu autem Altissimus in aeternum, Domine.
Quoniam ecce inimici tui, Domine, quoniam ecce inimici tui peribunt; et dispergentur omnes qui operantur iniquitatem.
Et exaltabitur sicut unicornis cornu meum, et senectus mea in misericordia uberi.
Et despexit oculus meus inimicos meos, et in insurgentibus in me malignantibus audiet auris mea.
Justus ut palma florebit; sicut cedrus Libani multiplicabitur.
Plantati in domo Domini, in atriis domus Dei nostri florebunt.
Adhuc multiplicabuntur in senecta uberi, et bene patientes erunt:
ut annuntient quoniam rectus Dominus Deus noster, et non est iniquitas in eo.
I’ll start muttering this under my breath from henceforth. Here, the grocery store, and I’ll even train myself to whisper it in my sleep.
Don’t forget to burn industrial quantities of sage.
The thing probably lives in the same place as the Sock-Thief Gremlin and the Thing That Makes Sure You’re Wearing a White Top When You’re Eating Beetroot.
By the way, the FD Troll pictured looks suspiciously like Grogu’s brother.
I had to google Grogu. Apparently, it is from Star Wars, not something I have ever seen. A film featuring somebody in a very unconvincing monkey costume and a motorised waste paper basket isn’t something I would watch.
The Beetroot Demon is also highly skilled with any foodstuff containing cooked tomatoes. It got my clean shirt within less than an hour of me putting it on the other day.
Bastards, the lot of them.
I can see why you've drawn that conclusion, but you're mistaken. There is no troll, there's only the invisible imp that sits on your shoulder as you write that first draft whispering subliminal delusions of genius until you type 'The End'. Then he jumps back into the walls and laughs and laughs and laughs.
I hope this helps.
Aaarrrggghhh!
These bloody things must be everywhere.
Before I do any more writing, I need to fetch the garlic from the kitchen and surround myself with a ring of salt.