Yesterday I realised I had writer's guilt. I had totally forgotten about my novel. I used to sit there thinking about the plot, working out character history in my head. The novel was constantly in my head. Now nothing. I even forgot the title. I am a bad mother to my novel. I'll have to make it up somehow, maybe pay for its punctuation fees or even donate more pages.
I have an idea for a short story but at the moment the character is still not wanting to interact. He wants to still in his cramped flat and make me write descriptions about his life. He won't budge from his threadbare armchair. I am going to have to roll up my sleeves with this one and show him who is boss.