It started snowing last night, and it’s still snowing now. It’s supposed to keep snowing till sometime overnight. I’m not even going to shovel the steps tonight. Tomorrow will do. No point doing it twice.

This is the time of year when cabin fever sets in. Winter’s fun right up until Christmas. After Christmas it becomes a thing to endure, except for the hearty Nordic types who love to tug on their multiple layers and strap on their skis and make for the blustery, aerobic slopes. They exude a moral and physical superiority that annoys me, frankly. The fact that they are in fact morally and physically superior to me is beside the point.

But by mid-February, even the Chilblain Brigade starts dreaming of beaches and barbecues. No, thank you, we won’t have another helping. We’ve enjoyed as much of this as we can stand. Wake us when the robins show up.

Yesterday I had a day without translation work, but I’d been told more was coming, so I figured relaxing a bit was okay, as I’ll be at it pretty hard in the days to come. At this point, it feels as if people are clamoring for me to take their money. I like this. It makes me feel morally and physically superior.

But I didn’t loaf all day. I went back to working on the new novel, and I made a fateful determination – my work habits have grown shoddy.

I’ve often mentioned that I like to write with the TV on. And I do. It works fine when I’m on a first draft, because first drafts are mostly sitting and thinking anyway. A TV distracts my mind just enough to keep it sparking. Or so I tell myself.

But when I’m doing revisions, as I have been for some time now, I need to concentrate more. Instead, I’ve been doing it over TV, and I think that’s why I’ve been moving so slowly.

So last night I put on music (Bach, mainly), and yes, it works better.

Maybe there’ll be progress now.

If I have any time free from translating.