So here I am full of cold, my head ready to explode and all I want to do is sleep. Let's hear some suitable noises of sympathy, folks...come on...Hmmm. No takers.
Never mind, I'll sympathise with myself. So there. A couple of paracetamol, cup of tea and a bit of shut eye, now that I can, now that the competition work is completed. Off to a spa on Friday, with Lucy and Kate. A full day of massage, sauna, swimming, pampering etc. Can't wait. Christmas present from Colin, good man that he is. Obviously knows how to keep us sweet. Obviously also knows that I need to get back into the swing of the novel rewrite after a whole month of reading and writing critiques of other people's writing, and a spa day is the answer. Equally I could just lie in the bath for a bit, after a spell at the gym and walk along the beach. Only that's not half so exotic or flamboyant.
Speaking of flamboyant, my office is a tip. Must try to clear a space on the floor so that I can actually get to my desk to do the rewrite. Being freelance is a true joy, but it does mean a different bag or box for each thing I do, and I'm always doing something. Naturally they have to be stowed somewhere accessible, and that place is the floor. Everything sits like stepping stones, but somehow I can't get to my desk. Actually I can. How could I be writing this otherwise? Yes, sir. It's a classic case of writerly procrastination. The rewrite has to be done. I have to do it. Simple equation. So here I go. Right now. When my headache subsides, that is, and after another cup of tea. Or should that be coffee?
Thanks to Libby, by the way, who sent me some comments on novel number two. I've asked her to put them on this blog, so hopefully that's going to happen soon.