but not this day!
struggled to get out of bed. Had a late night trying to finish an awkward scene on a novel I’m working on, but ended up playing chess with the computer. This
resulted in a tense stand-off with several more games until I was satisfied
that the computer was sorry that it beat me in two moves on the first game.
coffee, and turn on computer. I can hear it groan. No, that’s my stomach. I
haven’t eaten since, er, Saturday (it’s Monday). Funny, I’m as porky as
ever. Must be the constant supply of Hobnobs. In the kitchen I pour flakes into a bowl,
and top it with milk.
said flakes into my mouth, I open my email. Spam. Spam. Spam. And more spam.
Oh! Win a holiday with one click.
click. And read. And imagine I’ve won the holiday. I think about the new
clothes I would have buy. Would have to buy a new suitcase, too. And lose
weight. My dream ends, and the very nice, but very loud Chris Evans declares it’s
make another coffee, the previous cold, and delete the spam and the holiday. A
new email comes in. It’s from a lady whose work I was editing. She’s not happy
with the edits. Thinks I was too harsh. Harsh? Learn how to punctuate, muppet!
Another email comes through from an agent I was hopeful on bagging. No, she isn’t
going to pursue with my submission after all. I hit the minimize button. Too early
in the morning to deal with, and I don’t feel strong enough. Insufficient caffeine
circulating the blood stream for a start!
glug the coffee, but still don’t feel like reading the agent’s email. I wonder
about deleting it. If I call her and act
like I haven’t seen it, maybe she’ll change her mind?
open last night’s scene. Then immediately minimize it, and click on Twitter. Ah, I’ve several
messages and RTs that I need to reply to/thank. Oh no! Kate Moss is trending.
Has she died? I click and see that it’s her birthday. I wish her happy
into #wip to see how everyone is getting on with their writing. @Flashgit has managed
5k this morning. I unfollow @Flashgit.
is still editing her novel. She said she wrote in the whole damn thing in the NaNoWriMo month. I don’t believe her. I report her for abuse.
type: On second coffee and still can’t
get started #wip
open up The Scene and re-read aloud to see if it sounds any better. It
on Twitter I see if anyone has answered me. They have. @pruebatten suggests I go for a walk to think things over in my head. Good idea actually. The “me time”
is very, very important. Note to self – make more “me time”.
shower and dress, and immediately feel better. I grab my bag and car keys and
out I go. Walk? Is she frigging joking! I head to the shops. Nothing like
retail therapy for “me time”.
hours later, and a lots of pounds lighter (money, not weight – I wish!) I come
home. I’ve bought a pair of boyfriend jeans and a T-shirt. I go to dump the bags in
my wardrobe, but as I open the door a pair of jeans, with the label still on, fall
out. I pick them up and remember I bought them last week. They are EXACTLY THE
SAME AS THE ONES I’VE JUST BOUGHT!
at my computer I check my emails. The agent one is still there and I open it sulkily:
“the round table isn’t keen on your concept and doesn’t think it’ll sell”.
Round table? What is she, bloody King Arthur?
open Twitter to pour out my woes: Rejected
again #wip #submission #reject #author Might hit the bottle later.
at clock to see if this idea is doable. Almost mid-day, a little early, even
I’ve lost three followers. Really depressed now. I call my friend and tell her
all about my horrendous morning. She can’t really talk because her house was
burgled last night, and the police are there taking statements. Still, she could
have been a little more sympathetic, selfish cow.
the computer I open The Scene.
know, it reads really good now. Think I’ll keep it after all.