Scrivener, Anyone?

I've hesitated to make this post. It's pointless, boring (well, maybe not so boring) but in any case, it might even violate the rules of Blogsphere because I'm asking, not telling. What am I asking? First, the boring stuff: 1) I am computorially illiterate 2) I don't have a MAC 3) My excellent other half unscrews all my computercide attempts (actually, it's involuntary computerslaughter, really, as I don't do it intentionally) and he doesn't know his way around a MAC. What I want to know is, is Scrivener really that good? Is it worth overcoming all these obstacles? I know it won't write for me, I don't expect it too. But if any one out there remembers this post, you'll know why I'm asking.

So how bout it, Bloglodytes? Who uses Scrivener? Who likes it? Who hates it? Discombobulated minds wanna know...

Blogging in the Rain

Well, we had a lovely covering of snow for a few days- not as common as it's rumoured to be in the flat bits of good old Switzerland- but it's started to rain, and the head has broken off the wonderful snowman (he even has snow buttons, as big as your fist!) and rolled downslope.

Writing is really weird. When it goes well, it seems as natural and inevitable and unstoppable as rain coming down. Of course it's coming down. Of course I'm writing good stuff. Of course. On the days when it doesn't work, it's as if I've been ordered to make it rain back up again. I try. It takes a lot of mental energy. It's like that accio thing. We've all tried that- "accio tea," or "accio donut." But no matter how hard I concentrate, I've never been able to get it to work. It's faster and less trouble to just make the tea myself. (If there's a lesson in that, I'm ignoring it.)

If there were a Dunkin' or a Krispy Kreme within 300km, I'd be on the bestseller list by now, I'm sure.

Today's Excuse

Dear Notebook,

The cat is on me. She has settled herself on my collarbone and to make sure she doesn't slide off, I need to lean back.
It is impossible to write in this position.



This is sad, so sad. I know we all have our good days and our bad days, but things are downright stinky lately. Whether I struggle with the same old stories, trying to make them subripe, or sit down to write something new, nothing jives at the moment.
And my feet are cold. If this keeps up much longer, I'm going to start writing limericks. Hmpf.

A writer once sat quite alone
ignoring the door and the phone
she drank so much tea
she needed to pee
when she came back to the book it was done!

bloody book fairies. they're almost as unreliable as the dish fairies...