I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve moaned about my lack of spare time. Whine, whine, whine I go, instead of just shutting and getting on with it. But to be honest, now that life has settled down a little bit, I really am seeing the benefits of a slightly less stressful period.

Thinking about it, it’s not really time as such that’s the main problem, it’s the brain space. In the right mood, I can dash down five hundred words of fiction in fifteen minutes, but getting to the point where those words come easily is the difficult bit.

Now that the flat is sorted and I’ve got a little bit of brain space (no more chasing down banks, fretting over furniture and what have you) my productivity has sky rocketed. In fact, this short story collection might even be approaching (oh man) finished. A couple of months ago, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I’d be seeing the back of it anytime soon.

While I’ve been making efforts to create space for more actual writing time (hello again, 6am start) I really think it’s the mental breathing room that’s making the biggest difference. Especially as the lightening days have tempted me out of the house a little more than usual recently, thereby impinging on my working hours.

Obviously, it probably won’t be long before real life serves me up some other kind of conundrum, but right now I’m making hay while the sun shines.