>P is teaching late so I watched Fitzcarraldo, Werner Herzog‘s take on the Raymond Gubbay story. On reflection, I may have over-emphasised the difficulties encountered in putting up the shed.

Worked on the Birmingham play. Completely uninspired so far, but there were numbers to hit so I kept ploughing on. By the end of the day (i.e. 4.30pm) I was pleased to have solved a couple of technical problems and I know how to start tomorrow’s writing.

I get down on my writing very quickly nowadays. Part of me knows that early drafts will be weak and I kind of pre-judge the work (“it feels okay now, but I know that in a couple of days it will read like sh*te, therefore it must be sh*te.”). I used to rely on those days of delusion to fuel forward momentum. But they’re not available any more, so the schedule must rule. Why can’t I start with the third draft?

Builders back tomorrow.