Sunday

Sunday, Sunday, and tomorrow I'm back at work. And my husband, the Gadget Man starts a new job. And how much writing have I done so far these holidays? Not enough. Lots of editing though, so that's something. But it doesn't give me that same sense of achievement -- perhaps because although I enjoy it, it doesn't leave me with more words on the page. I have written a bit of a short scene today, so I might have to finish that before I go to bed. (I am feeling quite virtuous though, because I cut out another few hundred words and finally broke through the 188 k barrier, even if I only just got under it.)

Today sheared away into lunch out with my parents, and my brother and his son who had flown down from Sydney to go to the footy. And then picking up my daughter's friend who is staying the night. And dropping my son off at my mum's (he was at a scout barbecue at lunchtime, so missed lunch out). And cooking dinner. How can so much of the day evaporate? How different -- and much more valuable -- is time alone with the computer? My main problem is that everyone gravitates towards the study, and hangs around, and it's really difficult to write when three people are having a conversation with you, and they don't take not only subtle hints but direct orders. Ah, well, if only I were my main character, I'd ... no, perhaps I'd better not go there. But they would listen to him. Believe me, they would.

I still have one more week before I'm back teaching, but in that time I have to write an editing test, finish the manuscript I'm reading for someone else and listen to (and perhaps edit) a couple of tapes for our online unit. Hmm, and work, and go to writing group, and run the kids around to the activities that don't stop in the hols, and, most importantly, fit in some writing -- quite a lot of writing, actually. I'm starting to sniff the end of the rewrite, and that usually encourages me to go faster.