Sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes I have the energy, and sometimes I don’t, and it’s so easy to feel bad about not achieving things when simply there is nothing left that can make you work for them. 

Instead, realising that everything done is an achievement towards a goal helps. 

I haven’t researched for my writing. It’s been on the back burner for a few weeks again, lonely and forgotten in my mind, until suddenly I realise my neglect. Yet still I can’t find the space to start working on it, delving into developing the characters to tell a much needed story. 

Frankly I suppose it is the wrong time of year to try and concentrate on writing. What with working full-time and getting things in order for Christmas, there aren’t enough hours in the day. 

But yet I feel guilty – stubbornly so – for not putting pen to paper, digits to keyboard keys, churning out the words from my mind that illuminate this other world. 

Christmas, and new year, is a magical time of year where we all escape into another world. One which is stupid and obnoxious and crass, and still somehow full of love, compassion and joy. 

Tomorrow we’re wearing Christmas jumpers to work, and in a last minute attempt to join the fun I ran to Oxford Street finding only extra large left. I bought it if only to fit in to a workplace full of others.

My worry now is not only the ill-fitting jumper, but that I’ll be the only one wearing such.

We all have to take risks, to work hard and to excuse ourselves when we need to, and at this time of year I’m making the biggest excuse by not focusing on what really matters. 

For that I am a sinner, snuggled on the sofa avoiding the world, watching shit christmas movies and eating copious amounts of chocolate.

I’ll probably write again before Christmas Day, but to all – have a Merry Christmas.