On writing A “Novel”

And by A Novel I meant “fictional” memoir. Wrap thy brain around that.

Since it is Novel Writing Month, I am trying to write a chapter a day on my supposedly “fictional” “memoir” of IB. However, my poor female protagonist is not faring well at the moment as her author keeps vacillating between a Bell Jar/Catcher in the Rye type character and a sort of modern day Jane Eyre.

The Novel may as well be called The Catcher in the Bell Jar: A Goddamn, Crummy, Phony, Stillborn Fictional-But Not Really Fictional Autobiography About (a) Nervous Breakdown(s) of a Plain, Emotionally Disturbed But Overachieving Young Woman. BUT that’s much too lengthy a title, so I’ll stick with Of Sleepless Nights and Barrels of Coffee.

In the meantime, I have made up a really crummy song to the tune of Rehab by Amy Winehouse, a song which I anticipate will be in the Bottom 40 as it will only be sung by me.

They tried to make me do my homework,

But I said NO NO NO.

Yes I have work,

But then I go beserk

When I have to do my ho-homework.

I’d rather be on the ‘tube instead,

Waiting for my brain to go dead.

Cuz there’s nothing, nothing you’ll state,

That’ll stop me from doing my work laaate.

…and so on.