In case you’re were wondering, Inflatable Ink is not dead. It’s just pining for the fjords very very quiet right now.
In fact I’m working on a new version of this site for launch in September with a new look (nothing too flash, mind) and on a new platform. In the meantime, I may even post some more content.
The trouble is I’m an obsessive about process. It’s in my nature as a coder. I tend to lose sight of the why of things, and disappear into the how. I can easily spend a week happily poking about the innards of WordPress, for example, writing code to grab images from posts and turn them into thumbnails. After all that work I’m convinced I’ve made blog-type progress. In fact, up here in content-world where it matters, turns out I’ve not written or posted a line.
Perhaps too much of my professional life has been like that, in fact. It’s very easy to become obsessed with the challenges and mechanics of a project and, at the same time lose sight of the fact that someone’s going to spike all your work anyway and you might as well not bother. Or, worse, that you’re actually designing a better machine for shooting kittens.
Here are Mitchell and Webb in the grip of a similar revelation.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t work for News International or anything. No-one’s really murdering kittens or invading Russia. At least not in my department.
Even around fiction, I’ve been concentrating away from the page. In order to win more time writing, I’ve been doing none at all. I can’t talk about the fruits of that yet, but I hope there will be some in the coming weeks. However useful this process may turn out to have been, I’m acutely aware that I have done nothing of late to get me closer to that all important 10,000 hours.
What’s the takeaway from this post? Note to self; writers write. The clue is built-in to the word
