I've not managed any writing today, in case it helps any other writers to know that. And it's the same most days. There are a lot of loud 'shoulds' in my head (should've started earlier, should've set a word count, shouldn't have looked at Twitter), but these are Difficult Times.

I'm incredibly lucky in that I am not home-schooling any small people; so there 'should' be enough time in the day. But I suspect operating capacity is down for everyone. And creativity is a form of play, and requires lots of bandwidth, and the emotional security to daydream.

And then, of course, none of us know the world we're writing into: what it looks like, whether Covid is still a thing, what the people in it may want or need to hear. Add to that the fact that we're all of us sunk deep in *this* moment, with no perspective possible.

I'll try again tomorrow. You've got to keep turning up. And I remind myself that a lot of 'writing' doesn't happen at the computer or with a notebook, but while out on walks, while reading others' books, while watching TV. It all goes on to our compost heaps from which we draw.