So today – as happens every other day – I was going to spend a big chunk of time really getting some writing done. I thought I would aim for 5000 words of my first draft. yes, 5000, I thought, I have done this before. I can do it again. Once I even wrote 10,000. It took me two days to recover but I did it. So it started well with cup of tea and notes from yesterday and note scribbling for today and a bit of blankly staring at the current word doc thinking about what to go on with  next.

I did write a scene. I think it might even be not too bad and it will get slotted into the book somewhere. (I am at present trying a new first draft writing style, which involves more organic writing rather than trying to keep to a lineal plot line. Seems to be working. So far.)

Then there was lunch. Smoked salmon, some kind of cheese. Capers. you know. blah. blah. But while eating lunch the problem started. I thought I would check Twitter. Even knowing this is the road to doom, that the great black hole of procrastination was staring me in the face, howling that I was about to be gobbled up by it, I wasn’t disuaded. I was oddly convinced I could stop.

Clearly I have no self-control. No will power and am going a bit deaf . I went from Twitter, to a Chelsea Lately website, to You Tube. Which as all writers know, is known as the death of anything coherent.

I was there for 2 hours.

I am not proud of this.

But I managed to switch it off. Probably because my husband came home and in a panic to look as if I had been working I lost the site I was looking at. (must use favourites!) So I have gotten back into the writing and gone to work on another scene. It’s coming along.

I have however missed my step class and will have to resort to drinking to get through the evening. So, if you ever do run into a writer at any bookshop, festival or rehab reception, refrain from commenting on their ever expanding bottom or the fact they may be drinking wine at 10 in the morning.

We have to you see. It’s all for the art.