I'm taking another writing class this semester. We've had only one class so far, but I sensed a similarity in terms of advice. No, not sensed. "Sensed" implies that I might have interpreted things incorrectly. Sensed implies that somehow I might have some kind of option. Really what it was was bludgeoned into me that the only way to write better is to write more.
Write write write, you bastards! That's what she told us. At least that's what I heard. Write until your arms fall off and your brain turns into runny oatmeal! Write until the keyboard crumbles to dust beneath your fingers!
That being said, I kind of did that this week. I dropped cumbly nacho meat into my keyboard, anyway, while I was writing and attempting to have lunch at the same time. Not two activities I've ever been able to effectively combine. Either I'm eating nachos or I'm writing. Writing or eating nachos. And the twine shall ne'er meet...or something along those lines.
So if I disappear for longer periods of time than usual these days, it's for one reason or another. Either I'm writing writing writing, I have gooked my keyboard up with some kind of meat, or my arms have fallen off.