Moving slowly

Or maybe not moving at all.

Today I should have been working diligently on Chapter 34 of Benfro book 3 (and I hoped it would be done in 30 chapters - pah!) I say should have, because it's ten past nine now and I've not written a word.

Instead, I have spent the day playing with Google Maps, and if you want to see what I've managed to do, have a look here.

Now I might say that learning to use Google Maps is an important part of my continuous professional development - after all I'm supposed to be a whizzkid web developer in my spare time. But it's just a distraction. The site doesn't really need a map, and there's no paying work on the horizon where knowledge of the technology will be indispensable. Truth is, I just wanted to play with it, and right now any distraction from writing is just too tempting to resist.

It's not that I can't bear to write - far from it. In fact I can see the end of Benfro book three in sight now, albeit a faint smudge on the horizon rather than the reassuring clarity of harbour wall. The new ending I thought up whilst driving between shit collection sites has worked out nicely, getting rid of at least two rather weak bits and losing an annoying tail off after the denouement. But as is so often the case, knowing that the end is in sight, I start to slacken the pressure I put on myself. My daily word count drops and it's not such a bad thing, really. And there's time in the day for things other than dragons, surely.

But such evil thoughts need to be guarded against. Nearly finished is not the same as finished. Tomorrow I have to pack up most of my study into a small pile in the corner of the room to make way for a bed. We have friends coming for the weekend, arriving on Friday at lunchtime, and they have a three year old boy* who needs somewhere to sleep. Leaving the laptop, keyboard and everything else out for sticky fingers is not an option, and I won't get any writing done whilst they are here, anyway.** But it means the word count that stands tonight won't change before Monday, the end slips back over the horizon. And today's playing around is writing time squandered.

Ah well. Can't get it back now.

*the last time they came to stay, he was just a bulge. Just goes to show, we don't get many brave explorers venturing into the wilds of Wales.
** I could try, but it might be considered rude. And besides, I don't often get a chance to drink lots of whisky and beer, fart without embarrassment and talk top class toot into the wee small hours. Got to make the most of the opportunity.

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