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.)