I am starting to get writer's heeby-jeebies. That feeling that nags at you in the back of your mind and in your gut and makes you snappy and irritable and depressed. It comes from **not writing**. How long since I sat down and wrote something? Seems like years. And I have written a few poems and bits of a short story, and my journal while I was away - but it's not the same as working on a complete thing like a novel and getting that "high" from actually sitting there, pounding away at the keyboard, making it all happen on the page.
Instead I have been doing business-type stuff, trying to clear my desk and sort out my finances (here in Australia the end of the tax year is looming) and catch up on all kinds of stuff that's been put aside for way too long. And then there is the marking of the end of semester assignments. If I average 45 minutes for each one, and there are 42 to mark ... well, you do the maths. Suffice to say, this long holiday weekend will be nothing but marking and trying to allocate grades.
But the sooner it's done, the sooner I can write. Actually, rewrite. I have the draft of the Quentaris novel to rework and get in to the editor in 3 weeks time. So enough procrastinating (my favourite pastime!) - get moving!