Whenever I set a day aside for writing, I end up staring at a blank page for hours, with brief internet interludes. I think up lists, and I come up with brilliant plans for other things. Sometimes I even start sorting out drawers or piles of papers. Often I do the washing.
I am going away at the weekend on a writing retreat to a houseboat in Norfolk. It will be very Alan Partridge. I think I will probably say “A-haa!” a lot. I hope I will do lots of writing. I hope I feel suitably ‘inspired’. I feel like I haven’t finished anything in ages. I have misplaced my story mojo. Will I find it on a houseboat? I hope so. I tried to find it today, but I’m two cans of pop in and still nada. I’m going to do some right-brain drawing now, and then see if a little stream of consciousness will kick start something. These are desperate times.