I'm not very good at this blogging lark. I start off full of enthusiasm, ready to impart my pithy thoughts and reflection on the world*, but before long I lose interest and the blog becomes the webpage equivalent of a ghost town.
I don't think that its a lack of stuff to say; God knows there are several things a day that appear on teh internets that make me want to shoot the entire mass of humanity in the back of the head from point blank range (or at least those that DON'T.AGREE.WITH.ME). No, I think that it's more that I hate writing, which is a funny thing for a published writer to say.
Honestly, it's like pulling my own teeth out with a pair of rusty pliers and no anaesthesia. My prose style is a mishmash of other writers whom I admire (they can actually write for a start), with my own inimitable dash of ratholes, parentheses and tortuous sentence construction thrown in for good measure.**
Nevertheless, I have decided that perhaps I should pay a little more attention to my blogs, and try to write something on them every day, even if it's just a list of things that have gotten right up my nose the day before. Actually, that may be all I write. Still, it's a start.
See you in six months.***
*Actually, this should read "witless rantings about stuff I'm into, peppered with spite and bile".
**This sentence is an excellent example.
***I keed, I keed