The title is my husband’s brief  but articulate response to my repeated whingeing this week. His three words were true, of course: the project is a rod I’ve created for my own back. The pressure to have the next three chapters ready to read to my eager audience tomorrow afternoon is entirely of my own making.

The week went something like this:

Monday: “It’s been such a busy weekend, and now I’m at work I’ve no time to finish these chapters. I’m never going to get this done by Friday!”

Tuesday: “I have so much to do for work, and this is the busiest night of the week. I can’t do this…”

Wednesday: “Right, now or never. But I’m feeling ill now, plus the house is a tip! Woe is me!” (Cough. Splutter. Sniffle)

Today: “I’ve got the bit between my teeth, as they say.” I ticked off seven jobs on my to-do list before 11 in the morning and whipped my coughing carcass to the café down the road. I have no time to feel ill; I have a manuscript to write!

No distractions. No housework. No phone calls. Just my manuscript and me. And as if by magic, three chapters were completed.

Now, I do not claim for a second that these are three great chapters, but I have what I need to face those classes tomorrow. With a bit of luck, I’ll even have time for a read-through ahead of the gig .



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