Real Life Problems

Something terrible has happened.

I was given work to do.

The day I decide to begin the edit of my First Draft, I am confronted with an inbox of emails. Work emails.

Gone are my 3 hour lunch breaks, during which I will often fit a little shopping spree on Oxford Street, a trip to the gym and a sandwich from Pret. And gone is the time to open Word in a small window and crack on with some writing (other than this blog entry, which is going to be rough, rushed and angry). Absolute bastards.

I felt a little put out at being made to do the job I am paid to do, especially when I’ve managed to jiggle things around to suit my novel-writing.

What’s the saying? Real life is what happens when you’re making plans.

Fuck that.

Real life is what happens when you’re trying to write a novel. It taps on your shoulder like an unfuckable crush you haven’t had the heart let down yet.

  • Jack J. Binding, June 2015

Prose. And I was going to update you about the short story I’d been writing about this alcoholic piano player and his dog, Olive. It’s a prequel to my novel. Can an unpublished novel have a prequel? And, frankly, who cares? #semantics Back to the daily grind.

Here is an artistic representation of my frustration

n… IMG_4230

If a regular picture tells around 1,000 words, I reckon mine probably tell about 7. Still, don’t knock a man for trying. We’re all struggling artists, right? Hopefully tomorrow the skies will be less cloudy.


  1. ahhh poor little white man must work for money! 🙂

    i feel ya though, i really do. when i’m not working i *could* technically have loads of free time on my hands to write, but i don’t because i’m too bogged down by looking for work. and not just bogged down by looking for it, sad and feeling loserish for not getting hired.

    life… she can be a bitch.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love your blogs, Jack. Since I hardly know you I feel safe making a confession…I worked on my novel at my Day Job. Yikes!!! I swore I would NEVER do this, but things are so quiet this time of year rather than die of boredom I cautiously outlined second section. Don’t tell anyone, OK?

    Liked by 1 person

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