Wrote for an 3/4 an hour at lunchtime, and I was pleased with the way the story progressed, I was even more chuffed about the way the villain was becoming somebody you actually started having sympathy with. I was able to clock people around me, and take note of pertinent points.
Came home this evening and was tired and drained after an argument with teenage son. But came upstairs and hid- spending my writing time just browsing the internet, waiting for my stormy mind to clear.
Went downstairs after everybody had left, and felt able to start work, after somebody else gave me something to do. Why do I feel continually that people aren't taking responsibility for their own life, by handing their jobs to me? Toby has now left stage left, Bruce stage right, and Joshua entered and thankfully looked after himself and the dog.
Tipped my tea in the lap top after the lamp slid off the bureau, yet again...
watched a naff Linda La Plante, but with a good actress, Smurfit, so I described her manerisms...it was amazing how fast Karla's exit to Ireland came, and I wrote a few choice prose...
and so to bed..