Yep, you guessed it, I haven't been at work today, which means I've been at liberty to do whatever I darn well fancy. The problem is, I do have an awful lot of things I should be getting on with but, quite frankly, I can't be bothered. In fact, I think the only thing I've managed to get done over the last five days away from the office is to knit my mate Lexi a phone sock which, although it looked pretty cool in the Good Mixer last night, wasn't exactly a major project.
On my short term "to do" list I have a variety of bits and bobs that I need to finish off, and, in all honesty, none of them will take me that long, or be that difficult. My Peru collage just needs a lick of paint and a blob of extra glue here and there, the polyfillering of the smattering of holes in my walls won't take
If I'm honest with myself, I think I know what this is about. This morning I made a start on the penultimate chapter of my second novel, which means that, by the end of July, the first draft will probably be complete. This also means that, after a couple of read-throughs and the odd tweak here and there, it will be ready to share. With other people. People who might not like it. Which is fine, except I've really enjoyed writing it and really hope that, even if like Faith, it goes nowhere, people get it - and find Emily's story as absorbing as I have.
So there you have it. I've developed a fear of finishing. Let's just hope it doesn't develop into writer's block and remains a simple barrier to me getting off my butt and cleaning the oven. Only time will tell, and also reveal whether my novel is enjoyed by anyone other than myself. Just remember, if I ask you to ready it, be honest, but if you don't like it, let me down gently... like my protagonist, I don't always like to face up to reality...