A Writer's Day.

6:30am  Alarm. Affect responsible motherly tone and call to see if child is up.  She has already showered, dressed, made her own breakfast and straightened her hair. Set alarm clock on doze. 7:30  Coffee, emails, facebook, shower. Retrieve yesterday's clothes from chair.

8.00  Walk dogs. Intend to think about plot of latest book but send amusing texts instead.

10.00 More coffee, emails, this and that, cherry-pick infinite To Do list. Try to remember which e-mails have slipped through cracks. Check Amazon ranking. Have anxiety attack.

10:50-10.59  Watch vast pile of bills and correspondence teetering dangerously on desk. Succumb to existential despair.

11.00  Breakfast. More e-mail. Peek at To Do list. Bemoan lack of friends who understand feelings of desperation.

11.20  Open desktop file of most recent book. Close again immediately. Contemplate writing short story. Doze. Remember things that really really had to be done yesterday. Experience sense of urgency alternating with panic.

12:00  Gaze into middle distance. Experience self-loathing at lack of accomplishments so far.

3:00pm  Puzzle over lost three hours. (Blackout? Make doctor's appointment.)

3:10  Check blog stats. Write short piece for Guardian. Answer twelve Q&As from bloggers and schoolchildren. Get call from BBC about unique chance to engage in lively arts discussion on Rudyard Kipling. Feel quite the intellectual.

3:11  Decline flattering offer due to profound lack of Rudyard Kipling knowledge. Suggest someone with better education.

3:12  Fall into deep depression at general inadequacy. Snack despondently on sugar. Slug whisky out of bottle.

4:00 Reopen desktop file of most recent book.

5.00-8:00 Try to remember why anyone writes for a living. Drink wine. Write morose e-mails to everyone. Ignore family.

9.00 Dribble out 500 words more or less by accident. Vow to start working earlier tomorrow.

11:59. Fall into tormented sleep of the unproductive. Dream about working in advertising, unable to sell product. Awake anxious and sweating. Lie awake till dawn contemplating job change. Digging wells for UNICEF in Burkina Faso?

6.30am. More of same.