Okay. There’s too much faffing around going on here. Which is, as everyone says, fair enough and understandable and so forth, but equally, I know I’d feel better if I started feeling mildly productive.

The problem is (apart from the obvious – I mean the problem in pure practical terms), there’s just too many projects in the embryonic stages. Which leaves a person with a lot of scope for faffing. So. In the interests of just getting something down on paper (remember, you can’t get to the final draft if you don’t have the sixty millionth draft and you can’t get to the sixty millionth draft without a first draft which really does involve just putting words down, however crap imperfect those words may be) I shall, before 4.30 pm, write myself 2000 words. Possibly 2500.

It’s 2.24 now (my time).

If you need me, just email. I won’t be turning the internet off.

Update: 3.18 pm. One cup of coffee. Two lines of the mister’s chocolate. One short conversation with a man looking for ‘Mr or Mrs… (I hung up! I’ve never done that before. No ‘sorry not today’. I just hung up!). One just-made cup of tea. 800 words.

Fascinating, no?

Update: 4.40 pm. Some illicit checking of bloglines. Bit of following links that could’ve waited. 2000 words. Not all of them completely useless. Now, I’m going to reward myself with ten minutes of The Bold and The Beautiful. Don’t act all shocked. You already know I watch rubbish television.