I’ve mentioned NaNoWriMo before, but in March of this year I decided to see if I had the discipline to write a novel without the support safety-net – before I got too used to it and reliant upon it.
Part of the writing process, for me, is the constant search for new ways to do things and keep myself from getting bored.
So, March’s task was do write, NaNoWriMo style, but without a real deadline or any writing buddies or cabinmates.
It also coincided with the dole and triage, the (ahem) workfare provider sending me for a million different job interviews, none of which I had any chance of getting.
So, basically, March was spent frenziedly shooting all over Fife, trying to appear keen to start work, while at the same time, trying to stay focused on the *real* job in hand – my fucking novel.
Triage have to be the single most useless tory-ridden poverty-pimps I’ve come across. Falling into their hands meant that I wasn’t eligible to become self-employed, I wasn’t allowed to start a college course in running my own business – that I’d done all the legwork of finding.
And to cap it all off, although I’d kept them abreast of all my various addresses during my period of homelessness from November to January, they rang to complain that I’d been ignoring the letters that were being sent to an address I’d told them I’d left six months previously. Oh, and there was the little matter of my having become self employed two months before, too.