Writing is weird.
One minute you are telling a story.
The next minute you are researching the average amount of snowfall Edinburgh gets.
or how to kill someone with a piece of barbed wire and a tomato
Or how much force it takes to dent a human skull with a can of Pepsi.
what the hell are you guys writing?
[Background — a six piece pie style colour split in three shades of pink. Foreground — the long neck and face of a pink flamingo.
Top text: WRITE PORN IN PUBLIC
Bottom text: PARANOID PEOPLE ARE READING OVER YOUR SHOULDER]
#1 issue with writing at work. There’s a certain vulnerable head space I go into when I’m writing and my coworkers are nosey as all outdoor.
There’s also the fact that we’ve been insanely busy this summer. All the weeks in overtime!
During last week’s 53 hour shift, I eventually started letting people know that I give zero fucks about their petty bs or anything that didn’t directly affect me. 40+ work weeks suck, but it’s still better to be overworked at a job than to have no job and not be able to pay your bills.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it. :-/