Also known as Why I Don't/Can't Write Fiction... this was part of the piece I composed for NaNoWriMo. Which, as you may recall, I failed on several counts. But here is a sample to be the object of your disgust and/or amusement.
There are only so many places you can go, until you hit the end. Be it the end of the places or the end of you depends, I suppose on a number of things-the greatest of these things being your personal perspective on it all.
Today I am sitting at a desk in front of a computer, trying to type. Anything will do, I suppose. I just need words to count and rack up my word count so I don’t feel like a total failure. The author is supposed to be writing. Me? I don’t need to write. I am a character and I need to do something exciting that will make you people feel like I’m worth reading about.
Like pressure in a pop can, or a mite under a microscope, you are waiting for me to do something exciting and for a story to emerge.
I’m sorry, we’re experiencing technical difficulty and it might be a long wait.
This also may be difficult on my end, because the author has the attention span of a fly, the plot planning ability of a stick and the endurance of a glass house. Also known as like none at all. Not that I have anything against the author personally. You do realize the author is telling me to say this, right? The views reflected in this work are not necessarily mine, nor are they necessarily her own.
Goodness, that’s confusing.
It might be nice if she could buckle down to business and grant me some sort of personality and get this thing moving. She’s trying now.
My name is Peter.
Good job, author! You decided on something.
What about Peter, eh? I wish I knew. I think the author wishes she knew. I’ll ask. Author? Do you wish you knew?
The author says yes.
What about Peter? What should Peter say and think and feel? What should Peter’s story be about? Where should Peter live and work and play and do the things one might want him to?
The author needs to decide.
Peter (that’s me) should probably wish for a better author.
For Peter, however, the author will try.
I, Peter, shall be placed in England (at least for now-until the author gets bored.)
Just keep typing words, author, that’s all that matters.
What shall Peter do in England?
Maybe I should live there for now.
Which would mean I would have a British accent.
The author is quite partial to British accents.
Oops... she got distracted... that's all I get for know I guess.
She says she's sorry.