Reading what I've just written: a live blog

Reading what I’ve just written: a live blog

…okay, okay, not a live blog as such. A diary. 

09:00 This is when I like to start working. But today my task is to read what I just wrote. And what I just wrote is a redrafting of the first chapter of my novel, roughly 7500 words. I start cleaning the toilet instead.

09:18 Okay, it can’t be that bad. I find my best red pen. At first I can only find a biro, when what I want is my red uniball pen (fine), but that is not in any of the 14 places that I look, so I tell myself the biro will do and sit down to work.

09: 21 The biro is not fine.

09:25 Uniball found I get to work. Okay: ‘Part One’, I read. ‘Chapter One’. So far, so good. I get a biscuit.

10:07 Page one takes longer than I expected. That’s not much of a surprise: it’s the opening page, after all. But the effort makes me think I deserve a biscuit, and a look at Twitter. (I switch off the internet every morning at home, and while this means I can’t go online from my laptop, it doesn’t stop my phone and its little heart and email notifications, oh no.)  

10:37 Check Twitter in a desperate attempt to get out of page two. If there’s anything, anything I can find of interest, it will distract me from having to read any more of my awful prose. Ack – seriously, reading-something-you’ve-just- written is up there with hearing-a-recording-of-your-voice and looking-back-in-the-toilet-after-doing-a-poo. Don’t do it. Normally I get out of it by writing this here blog (no-one reads blogs). But a novel, I feel, needs a bit more checking. 

There are no interesting topics of conversation on Twitter.

11:20 Page three and already I want to kill myself. Feel it’s important to tweet this. Tell myself not to touch my phone, where the Twitter app is lurking 

11.26 I tweet it. And I notice my little brother has tweeted something about which I have an amusing comment. I make two. There’s the ten-minute delay while I wait for the responses to come flooding in (hearts! hearts! How I love those little hearts!).

They don’t.

Return solemnly to draft.

11.55 Long extended chat with the guy delivering my veg box. I think he had quite a lot to be getting on with, and hadn’t planned on hearing my newly acquired but surprisingly strongly held opinions on organic farming.

Page 5.

12:30 Contractors have appeared on the ledge outside my bedroom. Brief chat about the efficacy of rubber window sealants.

13:00 Tummy rumbling pretty badly now, and I’m only on p.9

13:13 LUUUUUNCH! (p11)

During lunch I get a like on one of my tweets! Big day. Decide to have a little break to think about how great I am.

(End of play result: 14 pages out of 30)