Once, a writer’s life-time ago, I read, ‘Writing is 1% inspiration and 99% putting bum on a seat and words on the screen.’ That person did not live during a lock-down of all normal activity. I’ve lost my appetite for food, have no energy for exercise and no inclination at all to write new material. Which makes me seek displacement activities. Playing Patience on the spare table in my room has given way to completing a new jigsaw puzzle. Magazines have replaced reading books. At least I’m getting through my pile of The Author, Mslexia whilst cancelling mags I really don’t need. I have in my bookcases many books I’ve not read, telling myself they’ll come into their own when I’m in a wheelchair! Now I’m pretty much stuck on the sofa, am I, at least, opening their glorious covers? That would be a no, no and no again.

However, my self-respect has been given back to me by the publisher who is publishing my next book, a collection of short stories. A week ago the first set of proofs for the book was on my desk. Now reading and correcting proof is not creative. Nothing in that task could be called original writing. But it does wake-up my brain.  And keep conversation between my husband and I, as he is my second reader, as well oil the wheels of communication between my writing colleagues as they are my 2^nd and 3^rd proof readers. Now we are working on the 2^nd set of proofs: movement with the production process.

Next task is to confirm that the designer has emailed the publishers with the original of the front cover illustration. Today, I’ve heard it has gone. I’m still waiting for work back from my mentor but maybe she’s not well, so I won’t bother her now.  In the meantime, I’ve turned all the pieces of the jigsaw over and made a start. I will conquer my laziness and blame The Virus no longer.