This week it begins again. The madness.
In a little over four months, I’m due to submit the manuscript for my next book.
Of course I’ve known about the deadline since the beginning of the year – and I’ve been anticipating it for even longer – but the truth is, unless the deadline Banshee is screaming, I just don’t have the motivation to do my best work. Or any work at all, really.
I left it this late with the last book too, but back then I was in the fortunate position of just having been dumped, both from the latest in a succession of jobs and by the latest in a succession of women. This left me with plenty of time to write, with only episodes of Diagnosis Murder and days-long bouts of sobbing to distract me from my contractual obligation. Even then, if blog timestamps serve me correctly, I staggered across the finish line two weeks late.