I spent a large chunk of the day crawling along a baking motorway, which isn’t much fun. Normally, I avoid any kind of transport on a Bank Holiday, but Dad was being discharged from hospital, so there was no choice.
Still, he and my sister got to enjoy a coffee in the sunshine at the hospital before we hit the road and the fact that he felt well enough to eat a mountain of cake was worth celebrating.
I went out for a large gin & tonic when I got home, then I fell asleep with my neck in an odd position and couldn’t turn my head this morning.
There is one more day-off to be had and that is going to be spent doing proper writing. I have concluded that I don’t actually like PR that much at all. I still miss my old job as a journalist. Don’t get me wrong, there is the odd high that comes with PR, but it isn’t and never will be my passion.
PR earns money, so it needs to be maintained. The way forwards I think is to employ people to do the PR work for me, get more corporate card orders and write this damned novel. I haven’t stuck to my 500 words a day limit, or any words a day limit in fact. I’m in a ‘I don’t really know where this story is going’ kind of a rut and need to push forwards. The only way as they say, is up.
I is a novel writing badass!