Please rest assured that "productive" here is uttered in tones of deep sarcasm
I have been up since 10.30am and so far I have achieved fuck-all. I have read a few pages of Perdido Street Station. I have spewed another paragraph of bullshit on my essay which is all well and good but it is due in on next Friday or something and I haven't managed to do anything worthwhile with it and it is huge and I have no citations and I have no idea what I'm talking about and the sentences don't make sense and I don't know why I spent 200 words wanking on about Bob Geldof. Also I tied some knots in string. It is oddly soothing.
Finished this, which is a private, archive-your-awful-shit-in-hardcopy deal for me - except the book size will only ship to the US. \o/ Retardomax.
Have three first-draft-need-tidying-checking-and-type-setting-etc Tiny Fiction editions ready to roll - the first one is roughly 70 pages, second one is 100 pages, third is in the vicinity of 80 pages. I imagine the others will follow a similar sort of pattern. They will cost £4.99 each as fleshbooks... wait, that sounded disturbing. Physical copies will be £4.99 each, downloads I've yet to decide on. Okay?
Also, needs a logo.
Stil no sign of relinquishing the acute despair.
Finished this, which is a private, archive-your-awful-shit-in-hardcopy deal for me - except the book size will only ship to the US. \o/ Retardomax.
Have three first-draft-need-tidying-checking-and-type-setting-etc Tiny Fiction editions ready to roll - the first one is roughly 70 pages, second one is 100 pages, third is in the vicinity of 80 pages. I imagine the others will follow a similar sort of pattern. They will cost £4.99 each as fleshbooks... wait, that sounded disturbing. Physical copies will be £4.99 each, downloads I've yet to decide on. Okay?
Also, needs a logo.
Stil no sign of relinquishing the acute despair.