June 14th 2017

Today I got in a solid hour’s worth of work on my novel. That’s about all that can be expected when you work full time and have a house and chores and a girlfriend and a hamster (admittedly, caring for a hamster does not take up much time). 

I’ve promised myself, for the umpteenth time, that this will be the last run-through copycheck/copyedit of my first and so far only completed novel. I’m getting there. I’ve done an hour’s work on it for the last three nights. I’m still just going through it with a green pen and scribbling and crossing and underlining and circling and making funny shapes that will hopefully mean something when I have to dive back into the word document that’s been lying idle on my desktop for the past year and a half.

I just need to try and keep up some level of consistency. Writing this blog every night for the past two and half years takes a half hour or so, but at some point it stopped being work and it became a habit. That’s the key. It’s the same for everything into which I throw myself.

I’m suddenly agonisingly, frustratingly aware of the regularity with which I write this kind of post. Maybe complaining about it is becoming a habit in and of itself. That’s very meta.


This is only ever supposed to be a description of the place in which I am in my life right now, and right now I’m feeling pretty positive about it all.

Until tomorrow, let’s see how long that lasts.



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