I'm never very quick off the blocks when it comes to a New Year. The first month of 2014 has already been and gone. Eight and half percent (give or take) of the writing time available to me has vanished with barely a word being written. The bright shiny resolution to write something long enough to be classed as a novel (or indeed a nove given the current wonky state of the "l" key on my laptop) is losing its luster and looking rustier by the day.
Like any good procrastinator I've armed myself with a variety of plausible excuses. I wanted to make sure I spent enough time with my parents while they were staying with us. I needed to have time to think and come back refreshed. I had to spend more time reading and learning from others. Am I sounding convincing yet?