Not my underwear.
I mean, that's hardly news.
(More recently than they have. Remember this?)
And not my personality.
Getting a bit late for that now.
No, I'm referring to the way I write.
Y'see, I'd noticed that I was doing more on my WIP while sitting on the tube going to see dad or in the park when the kids were playing footie than when I supposedly had a whole day to concentrate on it.
It's all your fault.
Don't deny it.
You're distracting me with your bleedin' bloggin'.
You're writing posts that make me think. Or laugh. You force me to comment.
I know you're not going to stop, so if you won't change, I will.
New year ... new plan.
I'll check my emails and post on my own blog and do anything else urgent that requires me to stare at a screen and then I'm going to close the laptop down and write in longhand as I did when I first started writing Nirvana Bites.
The adrenalin is really flowing with this latest book and it's coming faster than I can get the words on the page.
I'm loving that energy and the insistence that I make this a priority.
It's not just my WIP urging me to make this shift.
My body is telling me too.
My back's knackered from too many hours hunched over a steaming keyboard (from which most of the letters have been rubbed off resulting in some interesting typos).
It's taken a while but at last my brain has caught up with my spine.
I know I can't expect people to keep coming here if I don't return the favour and I'll really miss being involved with what's going on with all of you.
I'll try to visit as often as I can, but meantime ... hush ... can you hear that? My WIP is calling.