Why is the weekend busier than the rest of the week? There is certainly no time for sharpening the pencil and getting down to business with the new book.
Perhaps it's something to do with the fact that we always buy old houses that need tons of renovation and love spent on them. This morning I've helped tile the downstairs bathroom floor and cleaned up after C's mess.
This afternoon I need to go through all paperwork, throwing away redundant old files and manuals for goods that we no longer own or are totally defunct. Boring but necessary to make way for the new cupboard that we're going to be building this week. and then tomorrow, Sunday... Well I won't say anymore but perhaps I'll look thorugh my previous chapter and start doing a bit more plotting. How on earth did I ever manage to hold down a full time job, bring up kids and write? Still at least I am free to think while I'm doing some of these tasks and sometimes that is more important than the actual craft of writing.
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