I’ve been trying to finish the next draft of a play and it’s been problematic. Not because it is so difficult that I can’t do it or even that I don’t want to finish it – it’s because I seem to think I have all the time in the world.
I’ve always understood that my time on the planet is limited but bizarrely it hasn’t stopped me putting off my writing by making other things a priority. Until recently that is – when that false sense of eternity got well and truly smashed.