Maybe I don't Want to be a Writer?

Or maybe I need a holiday. The beach is my favourite writing place. I can do 6,000 words a day! Honestly! Here's how it works. You go to somewhere gorgeous like Bali and find a place to stay costing between £1 and £4 pounds, including breakfast, so you are not worrying about money. (Okay, it's been a few years since I was able to manage this! It may cost more now.) You have a ticket home with no fixed date on it. You get up and write. Then you have an excellent lunch, not cooked by you and no washing up afterwards. Then you lie on the beach and swim all afternoon, falling into a pleasant half trance. Ideas and scenes for the next day pop into your head while you sunbathe. Then it's home for a shower (cold, of course, but really not a problem in this climate) a sunset walk, dinner somewhere cute and home for an early night.

Perfect writing conditions = 6,000 words a day.

Life at the moment = 0 words a day.

Null Points Again

Not a word. No how! No place! No sir! No ma'am! No words here.

Why? Because I'm too busy with degree work. This course feels like one spinning plate too many in the party trick of life! Deadlines loom. Nobody is forcing me to meet them, of course, but if I goof off I waste the efforts (and expense) of the last 5 years. And I won't get to take a PGCE and I'll stay in my new and not-where-I-want-to-be office for ever instead of being a creative writing teacher and the pig won't get over the stile and I'll NEVER get home tonight.