No blog today, my novel's underway
I'm writing all I can, a NaNoWriMo fan.
No blog today, it's as I wrote here last,
I knew it would be so, a blog would be no-go.
How could I write outside my novel's frame?
How could I write a blog that's worth the name?
Hard enough I find, to write my target lines,
to tap out all the words, to build my tale's design.
No blog today. I simply can't convey
the effort it would take, my concentration break.
So here I am – for a month – here's my rota,
writing only for my epic S.F. book,
my fingers tapping out their daily quota,
cooking up my book.
No blog today, my novel's underway
and yet I take the time to steal a poppy rhyme.
"No Milk Today", oh Herman, how you've helped
me write my blog today, despite my saying nay!
So here it is – after all – here's my blog post!
Finished up this November morning dark
It's not great, but it's done – not to boast
but –
walking in the park!
No blog next week, no matter what I write,
the novel fills my mind, I can't see how I might.
No blog next week, you can take it to the bank –
unless another song and someone else to thank.
(With apologies to Graham Gouldman, who wrote No Milk Today, and to Herman’s Hermits who sang it in 1966.)
