The last few weeks have taken their toll on my writing schedule. Sally my partner was made redundant back in June. A small blessing as far as I am concerned. And probably the only thing that would make her leave a business she had dedicated twenty years to. But the ensuing trials did mean I had to take some extra hours at work. For a good six weeks I was getting up at six. Going to work at ten thirty. Finishing at eight thirty. In the few hours that were available I found myself setting up websites. Wrangling email addresses. And submerged in spreadsheets. A lot of spreadsheets. Not very conducive to any kind of creative writing. Then I had a weeks holiday. I promised myself this time off would involve some writing. It didn’t. Shame on me. But in my defence. I did have a few days away from the keyboard. A wedding to photograph. And a lot of films to watch. Since then I have had some minor distractions. That came to a head this weekend. When the cloud of a cold settled over me. I have spent the last couple of days in a Beechams haze. Unable to concentrate on anything but the most practical tasks. Thankfully the symptoms are starting to clear. And writing is back on the agenda. But while it might be back on the agenda. I’m still haven’t stepped over the start line. I am currently engaged in the preamble of creative avoidance that precedes the marathon of writing a feature screenplay. I keep telling myself. All I really have to do is stay at the keyboard. But staying put is proving harder than you might think.