I have not been writing.
I admit it. Bad wannabe. No biscuit.
Don't really know why. 'Snot like I don't have plenty of time on my hands these days. I'm doing the odd bit: a paragraph here, a couple of lines there, a few revisions of existing stuff. But I'm not really doing it. I'm not doing it in a doing-it flavoured way. Plastic writing.
I'm just having a hard time wresting my mind back from present concerns, such that all my writing go as folow...
Ragnar Orcslayer laid aside his mighty blade, FrostFang, which had cost him many hundreds of gold pieces but which would totally be worth it in the long run, and wiped the sweat from his eyes. "The fight is won!" he boomed. "Now for the spoils!" Stepping over to the first Orc, he skillfully removed its armour which would fetch a bob or two down the second hand armour stall. "Ah, HA!" he barked triumphantly, snatching a gold medallion from the neck of a dead foe, "NOW I shall go forth and defeat the evil lord Ovah-Derrapht!"
I so painfully need a job.