To be precise, I'm a computer geek.
Not actually a very good one, I can fix computers but generally not very well, and I get stuck far too often to be a proper computer techie geek. Nevertheless, I use computers a lot, and the vast majority of the time when I'm writing something, I'm typing it. I'm one of those people that type up letters to friends and family and print it out rather than actually put pen to paper. The rare time that I usually have to write a significant amount, for example in an exam, leaves my hand absolutely aching and begging to be put out of its misery,
Then I started the Travelling Book project.
And I now have a few books to write in.
And actually, slightly bizarrely, my hand seems to be holding up. I'm preparing around 3 books a day - when I say preparing, I'm writing a page of guidelines inside the front cover, the title page, and the back page. I still need to go back through the books and add in my piece about me, and then they will be ready to be distributed. According to my spreadsheet, I have about 20 books confirmed to be sent out, hand delivered, or just left anonymously in odd places, so I hope to get these sent out by the end of August. I am absolutely loving the project and am really looking forward to taking a huge pile of books to the Post Office for mailing around the world, as well as attempting to sneak into libraries and coffee shops and deposit a book, and get out again without being stopped. I'm the kind of person that would never dare steal something simply because I would be so scared of being caught. I managed to become scared just walking over one of these timber and rope bridges at the local park this morning because it rocks a bit when you walk over it. So sneaking in and leaving a book will probably give me a similar level of excitement.
And I'll also say - Twelfth is a weird word! Most of the numbers it makes sense, fourth, sixth, tenth, it's the word, plus "th" at the end. Sometimes, where that doesn't quite work, a letter is taken out - nine become ninth, for example.
But twelfth? Why isn't it twelvth? I wrote "The Twelfth Travelling Book" in one of the books about half an hour ago (that gives you an idea how far I've got) and it really doesn't look right to me.
Now I've finished wittering about myself, go and take a look at Tim's blog, where he's talking about a psychological experiment with blocks and how people like to arrange them. I appear to remember one at my work involving two teddy bears that kept being rearranged into questionable positions. Tim's findings are much more wholesome, however.