I seem to have caught an acute case of procrastinitis. Anyone else out there who is cleaning frantically, is out for a walk in the snow, cuddling their pets, ironing their underwear and sharpening their pencils just so they don't have to start their next novel? I've just finished backing up photos from January 2010, and am running out of ideas. I'm tempted to knock on my neighbour's house for a chat but I don't think they want to see me again just yet.
I guess it's time to bite the bullet and write.
I guess it's time to bite the bullet and write.
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