After yesterday's self-pitying journal entry, I decided to act rather more British and pull my socks up, etc., etc. I forced myself to get up early this morning (kind of: 6.45 am). Since Steph has been ill, we've been getting up a bit later, which has meant not doing any writing in the morning.

This morning, I went to the kitchen, got out my notebook and wrote, ably helped by music. Listened to Megadeth's Countdown to Extinction while writing. '...lying on your bed/examining my head/this is the part of me that hates..'. Heh. I love that album. Megadeth are one of the few bands I like that Steph doesn't -- I count myself lucky that I'm married to someone who likes most of my music (mainly heavy metal), which has to be unusual for an Opera scholar -- so I take the opportunity to listen to them when Steph's not around. In exchange, she refrains to listening to Jazz when I'm around, thank God.

For the first time in ages, I actually managed to get my two pages written. I've been blocked on this part of the book for ages. I'm not going to claim that I've broken that block--I still don't know how to do the second section of the book--but I did manage to complete the scene that's been creeping aimlessly forward, a sentence a day.

Getting writing done in the morning gives such a great buzz for the rest of the day. No matter how crappy work turns out, I've achieved something I want to and feel good about it. It never works that way when I write in the evening. If I'm writing in the evening and have had a crappy work day, I'm sometimes feeling too down and apathetic to do the writing.

Up even earlier tomorrow, I hope... Working back towards 6.30. Not quite Michael Jasper's 4.45 am start but good for me.