It started when I was writing Her Last Night of Innocence, and the Midweek Crisis has become a bit of a phenomenon with me now. This is how the first half of my week goes.
Monday - get home from school run, look around for work avoidance excuses, clean floor, make toast, sort laundry, trail upstairs and put music on. Open ms document. Turn music up. Write.
Tuesday - come home from school run, ignore kitchen squalor and ironing pile. Race upstairs. Open document. Write.
Wednesday - Wake up thinking about book. Snap at children at drop of a towel in pre-school run madness. Come home feeling guilty and bad-tempered. Go upstairs. Try to write. Fail spectacularly. Read back over Tuesday's enthusiastic outpouring and feel jaw drop with horror at how wrong it all is. Open up new document, entitled 'Real, Proper Actual Book This Time, Not False Start no 572' or something similar and write 4 sentences on it. Stop writing. Panic. Open up another new document entitled 'Outline no.48' and begin yet another summing up of Facts, this time adding in the mini-epiphany which will alter the course of the plot completely. Or not. Hyperventilate. Practise stress-managment in the form of internet 'research'. Make tea. Search house for chocolate. Re-read everything and realise Tuesday's version was, in fact, better. Apart from wrongness. Open up new document... Repeat in a loop until school pick up time.
Why? What is it about Wednesdays? If this goes on much longer I'm going to lobby my MP to get them abolished.