Well, partly. I sat down and wrote with a big frown yesterday. Cancelled lunch, stamped on the floor till the neighbour turned down his rampant house music, refused to be distracted by thoughts, and wrote.
Result? One story 1000 words longer, most of which are pish. By eight o clock I was about typing 'All work and no play makes Nikki a dull girl'. My back's gone into a spasm. I'm cream-crackered. And I hate the story. I want to inflict unnecessary pain on the characters.
So, is this what they mean when they say you have to learn to write even when you don't feel like it? Today the building site next door is at full throttle. The school yard is full of the noise of kids who sound like they're killing each other, punctuated by loud bells. My dear SO is demolishing a wall in the bedroom. I dream of living in a house at the top of a hill, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the sound of spring rain drumming on the roof.
Meanwhile, back to this turgid story. By the time I'm done the bastard will be well-written, if I have to rewrite every word.