Saturday, December 30, 2006

Conf 292: Must Work Harder

Michael Stelzner's Top Ten Writing Blogs, Miss Snark's incredible Hook marathon and Deborah Ng's freelance writing jobs all pressing my must try harder buttons. In the Telegraph, Louise Doughty has announced her novel writing competition, first 1,000 words required. But can anybody enter?

No progress. No attempt at progress. Pipping up at parties, to the inevitable question, 'still writing then?', 'I'm just tidying up, it needs about a full week's work & it'll be there.' A full week in a dark room not speaking with or seeing anybody. Or a full week of getting up at 5am and going through to 10am. Do-able. But not quite yet. It'll have to be a week without socialising or swimming pools.

After all the festive of loafing, took daughter and her friend to Kingston pool yesterday, blissfully empty amidst the swarming sales nightmares. I decided to treat myself to a sauna & jaccuze in the Health Suite. I've never done public saunas before - I mean ones that aren't attached to squishy hotels or health clubs you have to subscribe to. And didn't give it much thought beyond ooh hot and steaming out all those toxins and cold showers and a tiny bit thinner and hot and steaming and cold showers and even thinner, well, it works for jockeys, and then all glowy and bubbly and frothy and lots of my delishing Neal's Yard smellies rubbing in and I'll be all gleaming and refreshed and ready to party. But it was all a bit, well, I go in, and there's the jacuzzi with this big black guy in it. Now, do I hop in and sit next to him? Right off Kingston High Street to leaping into a bath with a stranger? So I have a cold shower, rearrange myself and go into the sauna. Three women in there, flopping about. I join in. Silence. Lots of silence. Hotter and hotter. Cold shower. Hotter and hotter. Someone gets up to leave and says to me she's hot. When the co-ordinates have all changed I take another peek at the jacuzzi, there's 2 women and a man in there now, not as attractive as the last one. I step in and take my seat and feel really, really silly, doing all I can to keep my knees and toes to myself. Nobody's talking. This is England. We're all sitting there, just our heads showing. So unrelaxingly opposite to what it's supposed to do. So I get out & go for swim. Never Again.

Bye bye, thanks for visiting, happy new year.

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