With aptness to the new writing cause...

Okay, so I am blatantly pinching this from Kelly McCullough's post on Wyrdsmiths today, but I thought it very apt for those of us about to embark on A215.

Once more unto the book, dear friends, once more;
Now mark the page up with our English words.
In lulls there's nothing becomes a writer
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the novel call blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd ink;
Then lend the pen a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the word o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth bad metaphor
O'erhang and shadow its intended thought,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful word.
Now set the start and stretch the keyboard wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every writer
To their full plot. On, on, noblest novelist.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of literature!
Fathers that, like so many Asimovs,
Have in these parts from morn till even writ
Then sheathed their pens for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your keyboards; now attest
That those whom you took as models did beget you.
Be example now to those of grosser blood,
And teach them how to write. And you, good yeoman,
Whose pens were dipped in ink, show us here
The mettle of your writing; let us swear
That you are worth your paper; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not vital story in your heart.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for story, pen, and written word!'

If I knew Mr McCullough I would thank him for this Shakespeare distortion, as it kind of gets the blood boiling again when it comes to writing for pleasure - of a sort! (Yes, I know, I will still be writing with the aim of finishing a piece for a new set of TMAs, but at the same time other things I will write for pleasure will be better for it.)