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The problem with having a blog I want to try and update on a regular basis is that I possess absolutely no social life to speak of at the moment, and as such have only the events that transpire within the walls of my flat to comment on. Unfortunately nothing happens in my flat, apart from me sitting around with my laptop, popping outside every now and then with my coffee to stand on the balconey and ‘dream’.
‘Dreaming’ is the official excuse I use when my girlfriend wants to know why I’m not talking to her and just staring into space with a blank look on my face- I thank The Writer’s Tale for that, where the right honorable Russell T Davies said that that was an acceptable part of the writing process. Unfortunately when employers want to pay you by the hour (can there be such a thing in writing?) they don’t like to count afternoons spent ‘dreaming’ towards your total.
When I’m in the middle of a project, as I am at the moment, I seem unable to do anything until I complete it, including sleeping. That’s bad enough in itself but woe betide me if one of the characters in a story is doing something depressing- because then I end up moping around the flat like a lonely housewife who’s lost her prozac.

