… in which I don’t get off to a very good start.
So, today was the day. I was going to start, gosh-darnit. After a couple of days exploring the cottage-on-a-hill and the surrounding areas, today I was going to knuckle down and get going.
I ensconced myself in the conservatory – a ramshackle set-up; garden chair carried in, table from the living room lugged through, laptop balanced on a hamper lid and a couple of telephone directories. It didn’t last.
I decamped to the kitchen table. Hoisted up on a couple of pillows it was much more comfortable and conducive to work. I lost the lovely view and gained the (frankly amazing but potentially distracting) clock that plays a different bird call each hour.
Ok. So. Sitting comfortably? Ish. Cup of tea? Check. Ready to start … Ready to start …??
That was six hours ago.
Because I am developing an idea for which I already have some of the script written (see ‘Day 1’), the trick is getting back in to the mind-set of that play I started six months ago. I have managed to write nothing new today. What I have done is edit and trim and explore the 30-or-so pages that were already there. Not ideal. I wish I had made some headway instead of revisiting old ground. I feel dull and uninspired, with a numb bum and too much tea sloshing around inside me. It feels like a wasted day. Not happy.
On the plus, I have learned the bird calls of the Chaffinch, the Cuckoo, the Great Tit (snigger), the Great Spotted Woodpecker and … as 5pm strikes … the Song Thrush.