Time's a tricky thing. I spent yesterday afternoon sending off four emails and attachments in various forms requested by different agents. It took me longer than to write 1000 words of my book in the morning. And of course it was a lot less enjoyable and so time passed so slowly that the morning's work seemed to be in the distant past.
And today time speeded up again. Three hours happily waiting for a glimpse of a Bittern (I saw two in the end, briefly). I think that experience is called "mindfulness", a super-awareness of what is around. This morning: sunshine, reed, water, birds calling, subtle movement, a scent of spring in the frost.
It's mindfulness which is the key to writing, coupled with putting in the hours.
This afternoon, I have returned to my desk. Ping! A nice rejection from an agent I only emailed yesterday afternnoon. She had wanted the first five pages. That's what I gave her. Super-awareness or carelessness? Another approach to time. Efficient and painless anyway, like stunning a rabbit.
Speed-dating. Time to move to the next table.
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