The third one

Weather: rain clearing
Listening to: Jayne Hockley and Taryn Fiebig "Thyme and Roses"

Today I write from the Slough of Despond. The pressure to keep writing is immense, and yet I have a list of other things to do which is a mile long. Including editing another book. I must finish part two of this book THIS WEEK if I'm to have any hope of meeting its Jan 31 deadline. This morning I have been trying to write a fairly straightforward scene, and it feels like the words are brussels sprouts that I am pushing about on a plate. God, look at that sentence! Is it any wonder I am in despair. If my 5 year old hadn't woken me at 1am with a nightmare, then climbed into bed and chatted to me, then refused to get back into his own bed, screaming and therefore waking the baby... well, perhaps I would have been in a better frame of mind to make good sentences. My heart is spiky, as though little darts of adrenalin are constantly assailing it. This can't be healthy, right?