After yesterday’s irrelevant picture of Southwold Harbour, I thought maybe a pretty flower might be a good idea. No real reason, just that it looks charming and since most of my garden has a blown-to-bits, burned-to-a-crisp look about it, this is a pleasant change.
Talking of pleasant change, have you seen the latest from Orion? They have announced that the Hairy Dieters (those Hairy Bikers have been on diets for those of you who haven’t noticed) have overtaken 50 shades in the book selling stakes. Apparently food outsells even sex. Now I, for one, am delighted by this. Not because I have any particular affinity with Bikers, hairy or otherwise, nor have I seen their programme or so much as opened their book to take a peek. Simply because I am fed up with hearing about 50 shades and feeling pressured into believing I should read it. Which I haven’t. But however I personally feel about 50 shades, she did get three books written and into the Best Seller Lists and at the current rate of progress, that is more than I’m going to do.
You see, today I have been not writing. And if you read my post yesterday, you will know that I took the day off and went out with my husband. What you won’t know is that precious little was done on Monday either. Not actual new writing. Some revision, editing and a bit of fiddling and that has been about it for the past three days. Now that is not good. When I opened up the computer and took a look at my latest WIP this morning, it made sad reading. Pathetic. What is strange, is that I really didn’t expect it to be so bad, so thin on the ground. Or screen. Somewhere in my mind, I had produced a marvellous quantity of words, all perfectly formed into the right kind of sentences, pushing my story on in just the right way. I had chosen to forget my naughty forays into the world. And has that spurred me on to bigger, better, brighter results today? No, it has not.
Three days off then. And still I open the word document and believe my word count will have miraculously gone up in my absence.
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” So said Albert Einstein. So there you have it. It is official. Completely bonkers.
But it is cooler now. I have re-installed my computer in the summer-house, given the place a little clean and tomorrow I shall be out there pounding the keyboard, making up for lost time. I promise.