6.00 am: I wake up, think about exercising. The thought is upsetting. I go back to sleep.
9.30 am: I wake up. I feel guilty about still being in bed. The guilt is tiring. I go back to sleep.
10.30am: I wake up to my alarm and read the abusive message I’ve left for myself. I feel chastised, and slightly resentful. I stay awake, but I spend the next hour in bed checking all of my social networking sites and reading a few news articles just to spite myself.
11.30am: I drag myself out of bed and shower. In the shower I have three brilliant ideas to solve all of the problems in my novel. By the time I get out, I have forgotten two of them.
12.00pm: I eat a healthy breakfast of porridge, sultanas, a banana and juice. Or, I eat an entirely less healthy breakfast of pizza pockets. It all depends on whether or not there are pizza pockets in the house. I chill out over my meal with a book or an episode of Project Runway/America’s Next Top Model.
1.00pm: I sit down to my work space with my computer, my notes, a snack, a tea/hot chocolate and some music. I get comfy and cruise the internet, read a few more news and cracked articles (for a healthy balance), watch some youtube videos, listen to old rock music very loudly, and get myself into the working mood.
2.00pm: The music switches over to movie orchestral soundtracks, rain noises and/or Enya, the internet gets minimised, the phone gets put further than arms reach away (it’s amazing how effective laziness can be) and I open my word document. And stare at it.
3.00pm: I’m starting to hit my groove. I’ve only thought about twitter five times in the last hour. I’m remembering what I like about my story and my protagonist and I’m trying to do right by her.
3.25pm: I ask my dog for feedback. He silently judges me.
4.00pm: I’m awesome. Everything I’m writing is gold. I’m going to be the next JK Rowling for sure.
5.00pm: I’m hungry. Why is the internet so far away. Why does that paragraph that made total sense eight minutes ago suddenly seem like it was written by an eleven year old on lemonade?
6.30pm: I break for dinner. My brain hurts. I’m forgetting everything I like about my story and my protagonist and I want to set fire to my computer.
7.30pm: I feel slightly better about life. I look at the time, ponder my mortality, realise death is advancing with each second I think about how terrible I am, and I get on with it.
9.30pm: I’m well into it, working logically, and things are making sense and sounding all right. I will not try to fling myself off anything in shame today.
10.00pm: I’m working well and I could stand to keep going, but I call it a day. I’ve got a lot done and in the long run, none of it will be wasted. I feel pretty good about myself.
10.30pm: I have a shower, snuggle up in bed, plan to watch one episode of something and go to sleep so I can get up early tomorrow and exercise.
12.30am: Just one more episode of Breaking Bad.
3.30am: OH MY GOD THAT TURTLE IS WEARING DANNY TREJO’S HEAD.
4.30am: …ah, nuts.