Hey, look at me blogging. I’m like all bloggy now. Two blogs in a week, come on.
Actually, I figured out why I haven’t blogged that often, and it’s got nothing (ah, well, little) to do with work pressure.
It’s because I can’t think of anything to say. I’m torn between the fear that I just don’t have an interesting enough life, and the concern that blogging should actually be called “Boy, do I like the sound of my own voice-ing.” To illustrate, what have I done recently? What have I done today? I cooked meatballs, and went out underwear shopping with my wife. The underwear was for her, though I suppose I have a vested interest, but I was really only there to offer some company.
See? It’s not very interesting is it? If I blogged every day it would be like “Got up. Found cat in bath. Saw the man from number 75 on his way to work. Thought about dimetrodons. Ate blueberries...” The most interesting thing that’s happening right now is that I intend to start work on my next novel tonight. I’ve got that pre-project, anticipatory buzz on. Unfortunately, due to a pesky confidentiality agreement, I can’t tell you anything about it. So that’s the blogging well and truly stuffed.
Oh, well. At least I’m trying. Think, think, what else? I just reread The Inferno by Fred and Geoffrey Hoyle (excellent, and accidentally apropos, given the news reports about that supernova) and The Outward Urge by John Wyndham and Lucas Parkes (also excellent). I started watching the second season of Battlestar (a whole different level of excellent - and no bloody spoilers, please!). I noted the demise of Airfix (not at all excellent) and discovered that as my next Dr Who audio for Big Finish is likely to be recorded in Manchester, I’m unlikely to be able to attend the sessions (disappointing).
Still, the meatballs were good.
P.S. Quote of the month - my daughter, of superheroes and their superpowers: “I always thought I ought to be able to fly... or at least bounce.