So working nights isn’t as conducive to writing as I’d hoped. I am on day one, which means I have all day to write, it means I have until about 9.30pm to get the story out of my head and set it adrift on this very keyboard.
This is definitely not writer’s block.
I did my ironing. I even did a little light exercise in preparation for a spell of physical inactivity, where only my prodding fingers would move.
I made my sandwiches for tonight’s shift; it would allow my mind to focus on the writing instead of worrying about that one extra job that needed doing.
Right, here we go.
Must just check my emails.
Oh come on, stop stalling!
Okay, okay. I’m ready. Park bum, engage mind, position hands over keyboard.
I must remember to trim my toenails when I get out of the shower later.
Sorry, sorry. Here we go. Where was I? Ah yes, my protagonist and his buddy must make it back to the cottage and upload the information from the memory stick they just searched for and found.
Erm, what information is that then?
Oh Christ on a bike. This is definitely not writer’s block.
Look, it’s lunchtime, no point trying to drag a hundred words out now while your tummy is rumbling; may as well satisfy it and then you can really knuckle down. Okay?
Within the space of two short hours, I’m back here at the keyboard wondering where all the dust comes from. And why does this laptop make that infernal whirring noise all the time.
Ahem, the story?
Ah yes, the story… I was right, it is colder in here than the rest of the house. And now look, I’ve run out coffee! Back in a trice.
Oh no, only three hours left. I hate deadlines. And listen, that damned dog is barking again; how come no one shuts it up, how come the owner is content to watch repeats of Jeremy Kyle with his dog turning hoarse in the background. Idiot!
I’ve got writer’s block, haven’t I? Nope, I have not. I have never suffered from writer’s block; I have suffered from a lack of knowledge concerning this particular plot line or that particular scene.
I know, I should download Scrivener, that would surely help. No it wouldn’t; it would, however, give you an excuse for three days of zero productivity while you worked out what this button did and how does one change the colour theme for the characters, and debating about the snazzy notes you could add to the corkboard.
My problem seems to be a very personal safety device. It seems to be saying to me, you cannot write the next scene until you know it intimately, which at the moment, you do not. How can you write about something you know nothing of?
I put my head on the desk, thinking intensley.
I woke up an hour later with horrendous neck ache and an audible fear that I was late for work.