What makes me pick up the pen is a good dose of willpower – and I don’t always exhibit much of that, as my trips between the desk and the fridge (always good exercise, don’t you think?) will testify.

Once I get going I can be in a world of my own making and that suits me down to the ground, being pretty reclusive and introvert (though I’m told that’s not how I always present to the outside world. Perhaps a topic for research in the future.)

But it’s just so difficult some days to get into that rhythm.

Butter wouldn’t melt….

I’m often treated to a cup of tea in bed (payback time comes at the weekend when hubby wants tea and a bacon sandwich), listening to the battle going on downstairs as he tries to prevent our new rescue dog from following him out of the kitchen – got to crack the separation anxiety somehow, for the sake of the wooden door and door frame.

The cup is usually only half full by the time he makes it past the hound and up the stairs and I’ve usually got to get up pretty much straight away anyway, but I appreciate the gesture.

Full round of feeding and cleaning around pets (currently the menagerie is diminishing with only one dog, two cats, and a few chickens – all re-homers – my favourite breed is rescue). Another cup of tea, doggy toilet pick-up, separation anxiety exercises hourly (for the dog, not me), and trying to focus on writing in-between this and carrying out meaningful paid employment.

I do recognise, though, that I write best when I have a deadline imposed by an external body – an editor or publisher just needs to give me the date and I am to be found buzzing with excitement and burning the midnight oil. So why can’t I impose the same deadlines for myself and how should I improve on this? Suggestions gratefully received. Though do, of course, give me a deadline by which I need to respond to you.