Yesterday, I had a couple of hours writing fiction. It acted as a balm. It didn't help me sleep. I had a rough night, when I wasn't tossing and turning, I was up and down. The snakes and monkeys in my head were chattering. But, my mind could turn to fiction ideas. I'm not sure where this piece of writing is going, but I'm having so much fun with it.
The big dilemma is that last week I didn't do the ironing or gardening. The house is a tip and garden is a...growing.This afternoon I have to get Abigail into the village for her asthma check which will be fun without the car. I also have to re write my manuscript for 'Frankenstein the Play' and get the exam answers out for 'I know why the Caged Bird Sings.' There is a possibility of more work from that direction and my publisher has arranged a telephone conference with me tomorrow at four which I'm really nervous about. I feel like I've done something wrong, and that's why they need to talk to me - which I know I've not! CBT time.
While I'm at the GPs I'm going to make an appointment for a little nagging thing that still hasn't gone away after eight months. I'm going do it. I have cheques to send, and paperwork to fill in. And, I know that the temptation is to try and do everything which I won't get done. Leaving me feeling like a failure.
So lots of things on my to do list, nothing underlined in red. And I don't seem to have the confidence to even work out an action plan. But what I really want to do is play around with words.