Distracted

With the New Year comes the start of a new book.

I'd love to have a better writing routine, and a shedload more discipline, but seem to write the bulk of my books in the three weeks before deadline. It's good to have that motivation, but not the healthiest way to write, so I'm going to try really hard to develop a better system.

It's not as if I NEED to be on Facebook and Twitter, or to look for cake recipes (except in the name of writing research) or hoover the curtains, or chop down the overgrown hedge in the back garden, or start a new exercise routine - well, maybe the latter (trying out all those cake recipes) - but they're irresistible activities when faced with having to write 90,000 words that will make sense and entertain.

It's a funny old job. When I worked at the library, I didn't say, 'Ooh, I'll just check social media for puppies in baskets', or 'Hang on, I need to research paint colours, the walls are looking a bit jaded', or 'Let me just style my hair a different way, and I'll be right with you' (honestly, I didn't, I'd have been sacked on the spot). But, then again, my jobs were clearly defined. I didn't have to make them up, and dealing with the public is a leveller. They'd never have let me get away with faffing about.

Maybe I need them to come round to my house and look at me disapprovingly until I've written at least 1000 words before I get out of bed. Better still, cut the WiFi so I can't get online, as that's where the biggest distractions lie.

Now, if I can just find a nice image to accompany this post, I can get on with writing that chapter I was supposed to have started this morning, before I alphabetised the books in the living room, and looked up something nice to cook for dinner...