I have not had quite the start to the year I'd planned. Here I am, six days in, and I have had precisely one writing session, and not a terribly productive one at that. Moreover, after such a promising start to November, my productivity dwindled steadily across the month, leading into a dismal December, during which I barely thought about writing, let alone actioned it.
Even worse, I have a deadline of sorts: 50 pages and a synopsis to be submitted by 23 January as my application for a week-long workshop in May. I now have around a fortnight to go, with around 10 pages to write and the balance to perfect. Yikes! I'd better get a move on.
The main problem has been a combination of too many social engagements and extreme heat -- plus the occasional domestic activity. I am especially frustrated by yesterday, which should have been the perfect writing day, as I had nothing on at all, but which turned out to be the worst sort of hot day ever -- nearly 40 degrees and still. My house rose up to 31 degrees, and I simply cannot work in such conditions. In fact, I can't do anything. (Except watch the cricket.)
Another problem has been the particular scene I am writing. It is the same scene I have been writing (and re-writing) since about the middle of November. There is obviously something rather wrong with it, so I need a chunk of time to get my head back into it and fix it. And now I am back at work, it's all going to get that much harder.
I am beginning to wish that I had devoted Thursday and Friday to writing, instead of going back to work. Where are my priorities? It's not as though there was anyone else at work with me!
Sorry about the rant, but I am feeling very frustrated.