I am currently taking advantage of the (hopefully) free wi-fi in my hotel room to update my blog. I'm in Canterbury for work, staying at a nice hotel on Wincheap trying to take advantage of the alone-time to do some writing. Unfortunately, my writing session has turned into an amazing feat of procrastination. For example, I took a detour home via Chilham to see where Jane Austen's brother once lived and where they shot some scenes for the newest BBC adaptation of Emma. When I did get back to the hotel finally, after only writing two lines of notes I then took another detour to writerdom by seeing how much honeycomb I could eat in twenty minutes whilst drinking an entire pot of tea. I then dallied further by reading Carrie Vaughn's story in Fantasy magazine (tis good, go see for yourself).
My attention span is ridiculous. If only I could concentrate for more than 10 minutes at a time I might actually have more things accomplished.
So on that note, I'm going to go back and do some writing.
Wish me luck.
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My attention span is appalling. When it gets really bad I have to set one of those cheap clockwork egg timers that tick obnoxiously going for twenty minutes and force myself into working in discrete moments of time before goofing off.
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