So here I am at The Melting Pot where I rent office space to write. And I have a deadline for Thursday - a chapter or two to be sent to my mentor. But it's one of these days when I check emails too often, nip out for chocolate, check the statistics on my blogs to see if anyone is reading me, help myself to soup left over from a meeting, google aspects of the craft of writing which continue to baffle me, check my mobile phone for texts or missed calls and look around for anyone who might welcome a chat.
If I don't get down to some serious re-writing soon, I'll go home this evening feeling unfulfilled, unstretched, and probably be grumpy with loved ones. I daren't describe this as procrastination. Giving it such a label makes the problem real. What I need to do is list what I need to do with this piece of writing, then select something - the least problematic item - and get on with it. Perhaps with the aid of music.
I don't want to give the impression I've done nothing useful since my arrival here four hours ago - heaven forfend I should waste a whole day. I have made useful notes from a technical book on writing. But that's the easy part. Now I need to transfer this new font of knowledge to the practice of writing.
Doubtfully yours
Jane
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