So, what shall I write about today?
a. Wombles? b. Rivers of Siberia? c. Men with whom Tracey Emin has shared an art installation?
Nope. They’ve all been done. Especially c.
So what next? Ah, fish.
Fish’s bottom (4); Cold fish (5); Fish – or beef? (4); Fish stank (5).
Yellow bird (7); Bird in another nest (4); Bird – or beef? (6); Bird nuts (6)
Hmmm. I’m stuck.
I once asked Araucaria if he ever had experienced writer’s block. His answer, a matter-of-fact ‘no’.
Much like Ms Emin, I get it often.
A friend and published author once told me if I don’t know what to write, just write anything, in order to get moving. ‘Vomit some words onto the page’, he gushed kaleidoscopically.
In my youth, while a member of an ‘anarchic’ band by the name of Xerox, we would contrive acne’d lyrical banalities by selecting random words from a dictionary, blindfold.
‘Clarion mortice fortitude cream lozenge
Walnut endangers plywood whisk hozenge.’
OK, so we may have had to engineer the rhymes somewhat. But it seemed to work, as no-one ever complained. That said, no-one ever listened.
So perhaps I shall write a puzzle based upon a random selection. Here goes:
Dybbuk junk impudent guilder general cassowary
Literae humaniores soprano ethyl acetate massowary.
OK, so where did I put that list of fishes….?