February 18th 2015

Today, as I said yesterday, I had every intention of being productive. And I was. Kinda.

Although hungover from last night, I managed to get up reasonably early (the hours were into double digits but had yet to reach the teens), and I decided to clean my room. Clean work place leaves for a clean working space or something poetic.

So I did that. And then I decided to wash and dry every item of clothing I own. So I did that.

And then a friend from home phoned me and said he needed Maths help with his coursework. So I did that.

And then it was pretty late (hours had reached mid-teens) so I procrastinated until dinner. By which I mean I did literally fuck all.

The day had been spent being productive. I got things done that needed doing. Just none of the stuff that I actually wanted to do.

Nevertheless, in the evening I transferred over all the planning files from my laptop to my tablet, and spent the evening in front of the football reading and rethinking the skeletal planning notes I’d constructed a lot earlier.

It was a reasonably productive day, so I can be happy with that.

The next thing I need to do is re-read some of my old favourite books, as the tones/mannerisms of the characters in them are similar to ones which I am hoping to display for the protagonist in my Book 2 too.

So I will do that.

Until tomorrow, produce.



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