I'm happy to report that today I reached that stage in the life of my current writing project (a collaborative article) in which I got so disgusted with myself that I actually began to write. I bet you know what I mean: that point where you keep nattering around on the internet in the name of "research," reading articles that are only tangentially related to the one you are writing, or in some cases not at all (this is NOT to slight the amazing availability of almost any journal I looked for yesterday; god, our library rocks).
But here's a case in point: yesterday, while looking for an article in a journal called Wordsworth Circle I came across a new piece by my friend and colleague who has started working on climate change in the 19th century. Which one did I read more carefully--the one I set out to get that had only a passing reference to Wordsworth's use of David Hartley, or the one about John Constable's cloud paintings? (I loved it by the way.) Sigh. These are all activities that can be called work, but at this point they are sheerly avoidance tactics. I made up my mind to get up this morning and write no matter what! Two full hours of writing, I promised.
And so I woke up, made my hot morning drink, opened the Priestley book to the page where I wanted to begin writing, and hit check on my email. And lo, down came a long-awaited message about book contract negotiations. A few email exchanges with a press, a dog walk, a phone call from E! and an attractive lunch invitation from JM later, and I hadn't gotten a single minute of my pledged two hours of work in. So I set the damn timer that I bought after reading a post Jenny made a long time ago about getting things done (GTD), and I made myself write for four thirty-minute increments, checking email only after those thirty minutes were up. At the end of that I now have a (too-long) part of a section that I think my coauthor and I can work with.
I rarely write after lunch, and if I do it means I'm either on a roll or under a deadline. But this afternoon I was neither. I was just pissed at myself.