Here's a little story. Yesterday, I had an idea that went along the lines of "I'm falling behind in National Novel Writing Month, better drink my own pee, or at least go to an all-night write-in."
By all-night, I meant this place was actually letting people stay from 6pm to 6am the next morning, if they wanted. I was the only one who wanted to do so. I ran on three five-hour-energies and several Red Bulls. By 4am, I had written ten thousand words since 6pm to add on to my story. At that point, the lady who ran the thing was only there to make sure I wasn't in their office unattended, so I told her "hey, would you like me to go home so that you can--" she was all "YES! " Allrighty then.
I get home at 5am.
I don't sleep.
At all.
I just go around about my business.
I start to get kind of... ridiculous ideas. I get one of these hoodies at a hippie shop: [link] better known as a "Drug Rug." I was SO FUCKING CONVINCED that I had to get one.
Then, suddenly, while I'm coasting around bookstores downtown at 2pm, the energy drinks wear off. I hadn't slept since 12pm yesterday, and I'm wearing the hoodie... so guess who goes into pothead mode, even though I've never had pot in my life?
This guy.
I barely avoided police attention as I stumbled home.
I wouldn't mind giving NaNoWriMo a go, despite not being especially confident in my writing skills. Any tips for someone who might attempt it next year?
Look at it this way - you know that stupid cunt that wrote Twilight? Or that stupid cunt that wrote Twilight fanfiction and turned it into 50 Shades of Grey? THOSE SLAGS MADE MONEY OFF UTTER SHIT. Let that be a lesson for you. If they can be successful despite having no writing skills of note, there's no reason for anyone out there to be reluctant.
I'm falling behind on NaNoWriMo as well. I'm forcing myself to stay up all night tonight to get caught up, only in the comfort of my own home so that if I start crying over the fact that snakes are just tails with faces because I'm so fucking tired, nobody will think I'm stoned (my parents are used to my sleep-deprived ravings at three in the morning).
I won't touch energy drinks, though. My stomach disagrees with them and instead of being up all night writing I'll be up all night puking my skeleton out. Tea is where it's at, yo.
Here's a little story. Yesterday, I had an idea that went along the lines of "I'm falling behind in National Novel Writing Month, better drink my own pee, or at least go to an all-night write-in."
By all-night, I meant this place was actually letting people stay from 6pm to 6am the next morning, if they wanted. I was the only one who wanted to do so. I ran on three five-hour-energies and several Red Bulls. By 4am, I had written ten thousand words since 6pm to add on to my story. At that point, the lady who ran the thing was only there to make sure I wasn't in their office unattended, so I told her "hey, would you like me to go home so that you can--" she was all "YES!
I get home at 5am.
I don't sleep.
At all.
I just go around about my business.
I start to get kind of... ridiculous ideas. I get one of these hoodies at a hippie shop: [link] better known as a "Drug Rug." I was SO FUCKING CONVINCED that I had to get one.
Then, suddenly, while I'm coasting around bookstores downtown at 2pm, the energy drinks wear off. I hadn't slept since 12pm yesterday, and I'm wearing the hoodie... so guess who goes into pothead mode, even though I've never had pot in my life?
This guy.
I barely avoided police attention as I stumbled home.
Teeyelldeeyar: always get a good amount of sleep.