AlanWatt's 90 day novel is making a lot of sense.  He actually has a program for his stuff though.  He takes it a step further than Bradbury and King and makes the point of writing to just write anything.  Which is practically the same as quantity over quality but he's a little more on point.


He says to keep a notebook where you use stream of consciousness to exhaust all of the ideas your mind has in it.  And that refills every day, yup.  Dunno if that will work but it should present enough situations to keep whatever story I'm writing going.

Also, cute cat pictures help put you at ease.  Nothing like some cute cat pictures.

John was finally doing it.  His legs carried him as fast as he could, against his better instincts, across the libraries pavement and toward the girl of his dreams.  His legs couldn’t walk fast enough, he had convinced himself he was getting it out of the way, and wouldn’t allow his mind to think about anything else.

            Halfway across the lawn, he ran into Mrs. Perrywinkle.  He couldn’t avoid saying hi, but let’s just keep it at that he thought.  I don’t want to hear endless stories about your geraniums.  Maybe she won’t notice me if I walk past.  She did, that smile is leaving her face.

            “Good morning Mrs. Perrywinkle,”  He said, removing his hat and putting it back on while he continued walking.  He was trying not to draw Debby’s attention before he got over to her.  Making eye contact might sabotage his plans.

            “Johnny my boy!” She grabbed his coat, turning him around.  “You said you’d help me with the rosebushes this morning!”

            “Later I will!”  The volume of his voice alarmed him.  “There’s something I have to do first.”

            He began his trot to the gallows once more. 

            “What is it you have to do?!”  Perrywinkle called out.  John felt like he had been stabbed with a needle in the spine.  He saw what could have been thousands of eyes staring at him from the library windows. Suddenly cars drove by honking their horns, not needing people to drive them.

            “Good evening ladies,”  He rehearsed to himself under his breath as he approached.  Debby was flanked on both sides by her honors club associates, and they stood as if they owned the place.  He felt a tugging on the back of his shirt.

            “You’re going to ask her on a date!” Mrs. Perrywinkle let loose.  “You, ask her! Well get on with it!”

            He was reminded of the evil witches who disguise themselves as old in stories.  He atleast thought they disguised themselves as old, or maybe they were just that ugly.  He flared his nostrils and turned toward the old lady with a rebuke in mind.

            It was too late.  The girls giggled and left. 

            He sat with his prepackaged lunch on the 3^rd floor of his school.  He watched as a man fed change into a vending machine.  He would have to plan his next move.  Giggling isn’t necessarily negative, he thought, but was careful not to read too much into it.  The last thing he needed was to become overconfident.

            He couldn’t get his mind focused on homework.  He was writing a report about cheese for his eccentric teacher who accepted cheese as a topic for a rport.  He sat with a stack of books that reached over his head, hiding his disappointment behind them. 

            “Is that you, John, behind all of those books?” A male voice roused him.  It could only be his peer mentor, five time champion of the chess league, captain of the triathalon team, and all around do-gooder Walter Sherman.  Walter was a little obnoxious, he adhered by an outdated code of ethics which insisted he interact with as many people as possible on a daily basis. 

            “Yeah, I’m upset Walt,”  John said, slapping his hands on the table.  “Perrywinkle screwed me up again.  I was this close to asking Debby out, now I’ll never know.”

            Walter got a serious look on his face.  “Listen, John,” He put an arm around him like he was explaining that the dominion before them would one day be his own.  “Stay away from Debby.  I’ll only say this once, and I should only have to, Perrywinkle is watching out for your better interest here.”

            Walter flicked John’s ear as he walked away, laughing to himself.  He raised his hand in the air and joined another table of suffering souls.

            John thought he would gradually improve to the point where he could ask out Debby and face the repurcusions if it made Walt unhappy.  He bought some 20 pound weights, but lifted too much and his arms turned into yellow bruises instead of mountains of muscle. 

            He wished Perrywinkle would die for what she had done.  He stared out the window at her, standing in the middle of the grounds like an eagle, attentive of everyones moves.  She would stare up at the windows, willing those dormant inside to come perform odd jobs for her. 

            He spent more time sitting in his tiny dorm than he could remember doing before.  He’d go to classes, avoid eye contact, and scurry back upstairs before most had time to leave their chairs.  He made excuses to leave early just to avoid the shame he felt for failing.

            His friends tried to cheer him up.  They’d bring him beer and drink with him, even though it normally had the opposite of the intended affect and just made him more emotional.

            Today is the day, he thought to himself, strapping the velcro of his snow shoes and removing his bag from the hook.  He pictured her standing behind the elevator doors when they opened, standing behind each door he opened, waiting outside whatever classroom he was going to.

            He had a limited amount of interaction with the girl in the first place.  They had shared a laugh about the bad movies their whole group were forced to watch in Science class, John was good at whispering cynical jokes when the lights were out.  He would show up early to classes after he discovered that she did the same, although he had nothing to make small talk to her about.  He’d usually end up making a comment about the weather, or comment on the loveliness of whatever turtleneck sweater she was wearing that day.  His crush was probably obvious to everyone else in the class, but even though he acknowledged this he remained unsure.

            Pacing on the concourse, John came to the alarming thought that they had nothing in common to do together.  He thought of her immediately asking, “What did you have in mind?”, which left him stupefied.  

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