I'm not sure I should have written yesterday's blog post. I already felt a bit rough with a slight cold and a dodgy prostate that had been hassling me all day, and by the time I'd tapped out a blog and hit 'Publish', the well of creativity had run dry and my brain said it was bedtime. Despite opening up my novel five minutes later, I failed to write a single word. Actually, that's not true. I did write a nineteen-word sentence, but I soon realised that I have no idea how to successfully trap a five-legged man-eating cow, so I deleted it, pending some serious research, and gave up for the day. I don't think I'm well enough to write a novel in a month.

To be honest, today hasn't been a lot better. I have, however, written almost 3,000 words on this blog in November (most of it excuses as to why I'm not writing my novel), so I'm tempted to add those to my total. Give it another week and I'll be counting e-mails. And if I get really desperate, shopping lists.