Read an article in this month's Writing Magazine - I've slept since then and so can recall neither its title nor its author - which provided tips for beating writer's block (if you are so inclined to confess its existence, and there are many, I know, who don't).
One of these tips was to write, but to write badly. To create absolute dross for a sustained four or five pages. To write as badly as manageable and to take pleasure in the creation of the worst possible prose.
The thought intrigued me so I noted it on a mental 3x5 and intended to pull it out at some point anon.
'Some point anon' turns out to be every time I sit down to write. I sit at the keyboard, fully intending to straighten out, for example, the horrible heaving mass that comprises chapters five through seven of 'Disbodied V', yet in my mind I am composing sentences that would likely be classed under 'torture' by most reasonable beings (and 'enhanced interrogation' by all others).
This inclination shows no sign of weakening, it's getting to the point where I think I'm going to have to sit and write four to five pages of, say, the robots from the future (who are from the future) and work through my sudden sadistic inclinations, otherwise I may well see my desire to write bad prose leak out when I really don't mean it to.
(It could be argued that this? Has already happened).
