Believe me, I’m well aware of the irony as I write this blog post. But it’s only a quickie, and after this I really will get on with my current WIP.
I know that I’m far from the only writer who procrastinates horribly when they are meant to be writing, but I still don’t understand why I do it. It makes no sense to me and I like things to make sense.
Today is the first day in several that I actually have the luxury of a good, long, uninterrupted chunk of time to work on the thing that I’m writing at the moment. And I know from past experience that when I settle down to write I will get into it, enjoy it and be really glad that I’m doing it.
So, why exactly am I tidying my house, doing laundry, surfing the net aimlessly, catching up on emails, tweeting and writing blog posts about procrastination? WHY?
I just wanted to shout that question out into the ether. I guess I should focus on the positives and be proud of myself for not opening Tumblr yet. And now I really am going to go and write all the words, but I’m just going to make a quick cup of tea first…
