Serves me right for being smug. I might have been able to write through grief, but it turns out it's much harder while providing hospitality for family who've come to stay for a week, and when there are funerals to finalise arrangements for, and to attend. It's not been the most productive week.
There was one night I stayed up, trying to hit my first mini-target of getting my storyline plotted out. It was one am when I made it to bed, with work the next day. At three am the baby woke with a temperature and refused to go back to sleep, screaming her way merrily towards six am, when the alarms went off and the other children got up, grumbling about the baby.
(My eight year old wants to know if the baby could live next door, instead.)
Some days it's hard to scrape together the energy, motivation and brains to write - especially simultaneously. I'm not sure anything could have made this week any more productive. But tomorrow is another day.
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