Writers Retreat

I’m an expert at procrastination. I am the queen, the overlady, the mistress and the expert of procrastination. Seriously, I dare you to find something (other than eating chocolate) that I can’t put off by at least an hour.

Even writing.

Writing.

My very life blood.

The stuff I eat, speak, dream, and live for.

Yep. I can procrastinate over writing too. In fact, I’m probably the best at this kind of procrastination – I can literally put writing off for weeks on end… Okay, months. I have proof – that incomplete, barely-there, insulted-looking novel that I keep wittering on about it proof enough that I’ve spent the last few months expertly avoiding it.

I need to find a writers retreat. I need to get out of the usual life – and all its available distractions – and ignore everything and everyone so I can just get on and write. It might not necessarily be a proper, organised one. It might just be somewhere I can go to be completely alone. No distractions.

Current distractions include:

  1. TV
  2. Internet (Facebook and Twitter and WordPress inclusive!)
  3. Phone
  4. Friends (no offence guys, you’re just far too entertaining to ignore, and that’s a compliment really)
  5. Family (living at home is hardly conducive to a quiet environment)
  6. Food (a whole drawer-full of goodies can’t be ignored)
  7. Cat
  8. Weather … well, when it’s this sunny anyway
  9. Books … I know, these technically shouldn’t count, but they do stop me from writing
  10. Running. It might be for a good cause, but my God it takes FOREVER

I don’t stand a chance, when I’m just so good at avoiding writing. I need to hike up the Alps and find a hut with a cosy room and an endless supply of tea and nothing to do but write. I need some time off work, and some time to myself to really concentrate on writing. I know I’ve been saying this a lot – just get down to it and concentrate, learn to be disciplined, blah, blah, blah. But I think I need to go to the extreme – and literally go away from everything. Sitting at the family room table, surrounded by the detritus of everyday life, or huddled against my pillows on my bed, doesn’t really help with finishing the novel. Mainly because I get distracted by everything else.

I need to get gone.

But first, there’s that TV programme I want to watch, and I’m sure there was some crisps around here …

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