So I sat at my dining room table yesterday, chair in, back straight, legs crossed, phone in hand, and I sexted.

100 sexts.

All very short. Easy writing.

Today I sat down to work on my book. Same book I’ve been working on for years. I used to write a few pages a day. Then, a page a day. That became a paragraph. Now, a couple of sentences.

These days I write short.

A few words and I’m done.

It’s the times we live in. It’s not that I don’t want to write lots anymore. I can’t. I am so distracted and I know it’s because of this digital age.

It’s the same as reading. I used to get through four books a month Now, if I get through one I think it’s fabulous and I tell everyone I know, hey hey, I read a book.

We have all become used to short.

And we’re all distracted. Apparently it’s something about our brains and dopamine and we see one thing but there’s something else to look at and our brains get excited and unfocused and let me just check my emails and look at twitter and one more tweet and oh let me see that article and that video and….

BUT IT’S OKAY!

I am not in a panic. It is what it is.

And I have decided that I don’t need to write books. Or stories. Or even blogs.

I can just stick to titles.

Here are some that I did today.

Other peoples shoes.                                       Fashion.
This chocolate ice cream.                               A love story.
I want him, now.                                             Erotica.
Get yourself that frock.                                   Inspirational.
I dropped my last valium.                             Horror.
I got dressed for gym.                                     Memoir.
I also want to climb the Trump Tower.     Fitness.
The whisky bottle is empty.                           Disaster.

Much better. Easy to write, easy for you to read, everyone’s happy, go check Facebook, look at Instagram, and hey, look at that tweet, cool, thanks, see ya, oh man, is this my blog, where am I, what was I even writing…