Yesterday was not a good day for writing stuff. Sunday night was ruined by having to get up at Oh-My-God o’clock in order to catch the red-eye to Heathrow. Monday night was spoiled by having to schmooze with Big-Cheese-Client-Boy and spend the night in a hotel (where I never sleep anyway) and Tuesday night… less said the better, but trust me – not much sleep at all. If any. Now I’ll freely admit that I don’t sleep that great at the best of times, but this week has been extra special in terms of its slumberific awfulness.
Which resulted in Wednesday – my first full day back at writing on the part time conga-line – being national half shut knife day. Knackered. Now I don’t know if it was being exhausted and bleary and kinda nauseas due to lack of sleep, or just the shock of being back at the grindkeyboard, but the total sum of Wednesday’s writing was a piffling 1,000 words. 1,000. Arsebiscuits. Of course I wrote a hell of a lot more words than that, but then spent the rest of the day deleting them, or writing over the top, or going back to square one and starting again. Frustrating as hell.
But today the stygian mists of gloom have roll-ed away and lo, let there be words. By lunchtime I’d already written twice what I had yesterday and by close of business the old wordcount was sitting at a modest, but acceptable 3,500. Breathe sigh of relief. Better yet, it now means that I have writted more than 2,000 more than went into the release version of Cold Granite. Hurrah! Now I only need to produce another 5 or 6 chapters and I’m home and dry! Wheeeeeeee…
Then it’s a quick drift back through the thing, to tweak and fiddle a little, and it can go off to Phil (he’s small, but he’s feisty).