I actually managed to get some sleep last night. At about 2am I turned out the lights, got into bed and fell into dreamless sleep without much of a struggle.

Today started off pretty typical. I had a lie in, ate, then played Skyrim for a couple of hours. I wasn't on it long, though; I've been feeling restless all day - there's the growing desire now to get up and actually do something. I've recovered after almost two months since coming back, now's the time to get busy.

All day long, I've had the urge to write. My novel sits idly in its gigantic binder, where it's been flicked through but generally untouched for months. But I just couldn't pick up the pen - it's like after all these months of neglecting it and being too busy being in love and stressing, I've forgotten how to write. I mean really write, like I used to when I was bored and had only my characters for company.

Before I sleep, I'll clear my desk - turn it back into a proper writing space. Then, tomorrow, once I've had breakfast, I'll sit down and write. Because there's no chance in hell this novel is just going to fizzle out at 361 pages.

I realised just how pointless my life was getting when I decided to do something different and read a book in the bath for a change. When reading a book in the bath as opposed to in bed is the highlight of your day, you have serious issues. I need to get busy - get productive.

For once, I've bothered to braid my hair before bed. They're really tight braids, more functional than anything, and I look bloody stupid. But it keeps my stupidly long hair in check, and tomorrow when I let it down it'll be lovely and wavy, as opposed to flat and straight.

Right. Tidying up time.

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