"The first draft is [feces]" I'm trying to give up swearing, but Hemingway was probably right. Ever since I plagiarised my first story and received unwarranted praise on account of it I've felt a strange swelling in my right testicle, which I can only attribute to a divinely appointed calling to become a writer. This dodgy event has become mythologized, if only in my own mind (the story, not the inflammation). Some day I may even tell you about it.
As for now I'd like to test Ernest's theory, and actually maybe even do some writing. I've never written a novel before (while reading my prose you may conclude that I've never actually read one either, this is not far from the truth) and although I'm partial to procrastination, I've decided that the public humiliation of actually writing will be slightly less severe than the public humiliation of not writing (somewhat debatable), so I'll go with the lesser evil even if it's the devil that I don't know.
Enough with the cliches. This will be a departure from anything of that nature. Well, probably not. But by using only the powers of my own mind, which are overflowing with originality, I'll write a story with no outline, no character notes, no premeditation, no plot, very little editing and a whole bunch of fecal matter (metaphorically speaking). Posting three days a week (New Zealand Standard Time) and in this reverse chronological format you'll have to read it backwards. May Allah have mercy on us all.
**the schedule part of this entry has been revised several times**