Deadlines looming, body still longing for a proper weekend and still catching up on 100+ emails for work, here I am on a Monday night trying to tie the ends of an article I have started writing on the plane yesterday night. The problem with being a writer is that old-school friend called mental block, and try as I might to shoo it away, it comes back, again and again. My self-imposed deadline for this piece is tomorrow morning, so I could move on to another article due on Thursday, so eventually I could do the four-page article about Indonesia due next issue. I would just rely on the power of my super sweet brownies from Bandung (sugar rush, come to me), OC-ness to produce a decent article, and my writing groove always (without fail!) starting at midnight. I guess my Cinderella Sleeper mode has become Midnight Writing Stint at Duxton Hill. Or maybe my body is still confused? Maybe it still thinks I'm still an hour behind Singapore, which explains the late sleep and 60-minute-late food cravings.
My typing fingers are not as quick as my deadlines.
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