First day of the school hols. I'm not at work, either here, or at the pub. Finally I have run out of excuses.
It is time to write.
I mean, you know, write properly. I find it tough just picking away at hundred words or so a day. I know it works for plenty others. But I find it hard to get into the flow, I keep forgetting what I've written or where I was going. But on holiday, I can write properly. I can write all day (then delete lots of it the day after, but still).
Early on I get potential distractions out the way: I put a wash in, do the washing up, hoover, shower, shave and set myself up ready to write.
Disco Kettle has 'binged'. Coffee steams. I have on suitably trippy music. I wear old comfy jeans and a cartoon t-shirt. I have just eaten four potato cakes slathered in butter.
Everything is ready.
So why can't I write?
I resist the temptation to delete the previous chapter. I am unhappy with a character - but I can sort that later. I feel it is important not to go backwards at this stage. I run back through my checklist of Stuff I Need To Write. Something is missing, but I'm not sure what.
I take some advice recently posted on Megan Taylor's blog, I go for a quick walk. I read (a random selection of poetry). I bang my head against the wall (not recommended by Megan. Or Doctors.)
And then it hits me.
Well, two things hit me, first the wall, obviously, then the problem.
I realised What Was Missing.
I set Disco Kettle to the boil while I hunted through my wardrobe.
By the time Disco Kettle 'bung' (past tense of 'Bing'? 'Binged' sounds wrong...) I was stood, in the doorway, hand heroically positioned on hips, light steaming out from behind me. In proper superhero mode a breeze rustled by, my dressing gown flapping behind me like a cape.
My Dressing Gown Has Magical Powers.
Today I have written just over 1,000 words. And eaten another two potato cakes.
I love the summer.
I love potato cakes and coffee.
I love Disco Kettle.
I love my Magic Dressing Gown.
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