Welcome, adventurer! You’re about to embark on the most difficult challenge known to any creative artist – ACTUALLY STARTING WORK.

Millions have tried, and millions have failed!

Will you be one of them?

BEGIN!

……….

1.

During the night someone stole into your room, hung you upside down and lived out their Rocky Balboa fantasies on your face. It’s the only explanation for what you can see in the mirror – not that you can currently see much through that face. You need coffee before you can even think – hell, before you can even BE. And you’ve only got 3 minutes until you start your writing shift for the morning. Do you:

(a) get writing, and never mind the coffee? (Go to 6).
(b) go downstairs and make a pot of truly violent bean-juice, taking as long as it takes?(Go to 8).
(c) stand under the shower for 20 minutes, drinking Red Bull? (Go to 12)

……….

2.

It was an age of dragons, and heroes, and mouse-related repetitive stress injury. You lose yourself in it. You need gold and experience points. Do you:
(a) look for gold? (Go to 16)
(b) look for experience points? (Go to 16)

……….

3.

There is no such thing as a “single episode of Battlestar Galactica“. The afternoon and evening pass in a blur of Cylons. Pretty soon it’s time to go to bed.

But you still have another season to watch, so you stay up all night.

So that’s tomorrow’s writing schedule hosed as well, then.

Oh man, you could have been somebody.

THE END

……….

4.

OMG OMG OMG! @NASA has retweeted your tweet about space kittens! And now 1,737,763 people will want to know more about the peep behind the tweet! You HAVE to follow up while the social media spotlight is shining down on little ole’ you. Do you:

(a) immediately log onto Twitter and tweet out the good news, carefully phrasing it so it sounds like you and NASA hang out all the time, hey no big deal? (Go to 17)
(b) stiffen your upper lip, straighten your back and resist the temptation to fly your own flag online? (Go to 10)

……….

5.

You knock back a couple of stiff ones, and as the alcohol slams into your bloodstream you gradually un-knurd. Unfortunately your nervous system is so disgusted with you that it shuts down in protest, and you fall asleep, hugging your whisky bottle. When you wake up, it’s growing dark. It’s like being a student again – in the sense that you got absolutely nothing done today.

Aw, bless – you’re utterly pathetic.

THE END

……….

6.

Your lizard-brain is imploring you to do anything but sit down. You ignore it, sweat bursting from your forehead, and sulkily stab the Power button on your computer. It’s going to take a few minutes to finish booting up. Do you:

(a) get down on the floor and do a few stomach-crunches, like the very, very worst kind of asshole? (Go to 13)
(b) throw yourself down the stairs in a wild attempt to boil the kettle before boot-up is finished? (Go to 8 )
(c) shout at the screen for being so slow, curse computers, curse technology itself, curse Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Charles Babbage and that ape with the thigh-bone in 2001: A Space Odyssey, then go back to bed? (Go to 15)

……….

7.

You work.

Congratulations.

Against the odds, against the formidable obstacles you threw in your own way, laughing in the very teeth of distraction itself, you did your work.

There’s hope for you yet.

(Well, until tomorrow morning).

THE END

……….

8.

Blessed is the evil bean of waking, for it sets your mind in motion. Coffee fumes fill the kitchen like smoke from a tire fire. As usual, in your uncontrollable lust to caffeinate yourself, you’ve made way too much coffee for one person. You drink one cup. Ohhhhhh it’s so GOOD – at the same time, you realise you can’t feel your lips anymore. Probably a good time to stop, then. Do you:

(a) knock the cup back and go upstairs to work? (Go to 11)
(b) knock back the remainder of the pot, however many cups are left? (Go to 9)

……….

9.

Two cups later, you can only see in black & white – worse, you’re going KNURD, the state of super-sobriety that hides nothing of the tedious awfulness of your daily life from your screeching, cowering mind. Why? WHY? You don’t know, but you wish it would all just stop. Hell, what’s the point in anything? Do you:

(a) lay in the hallway, screaming yourself hoarse? (Go to 14)
(b) attempt to drink yourself back into a productive state using single malt whisky? (Go to 5)

……….

10.

My word – it seems you CAN do this. Incredibly, you’re on the verge of starting actual work. Do you:

(a) celebrate by a quick session on the epic roleplaying game “Cloudlip” you bought on Steam just yesterday? (Go to 2)
(b) destroy the world, turn off your phone notifications, block social media sites and lean into the work? (Go to 7)

……….

11.

You’re ready for this. You are READY. What are you? Yes – READY! Crowd roars! Your computer has booted up – oh, wait, it’s still not done, you need to type your password in. Another wait. La dee daa. This is wasted time, and hey, if you used your phone to check the internet, it’s not technically a distraction, is it? Do you:

(a) resist the siren-like call of e-mail and social media? (Go to 10)
(b) grab your phone and check your e-mail, Facebook and Twitter accounts? (Go to 4)

……….

12.

This is delicious. You’re loving this the way cats love cat-nip. Who cares about deadlines? I mean, everyone has to give themself a little slack, yeah? And once you emerge from the bathroom, you’re going to be on fire, chile’. You daydream for a while of Pulitzer Prizes and shiny red sports cars.

Two cans of Red Bull and an appalling, environment-slaying 40 minutes of showering later, you realise you’re running late. But that’s okay – you can make up the time later. Do you:

(a) step out the shower, towel yourself briskly and get to the writing as soon as possible? (Go to 11)
(b) take your time purrtying yourself up in front of the mirror, then go downstairs for a coffee? (Go to 8 )

……….

13.

Early to rise, late to bed, makes you healthy, wealthy and dead. You’re feeling super-virtuous, so you flip over and start a few chin-ups. Unfortunately without any caffeine in your system there’s nothing propping up your feeble writer’s frame, and your bones, muscles and sinews are immediately stretched beyond breaking point.

You suffer a series of wildly unpleasant sensations, and then you pass out.

When you wake up, it’s after lunch. Your working day is over.

Also, you’re going to be in traction for the next month.

Way to go, GI Joe.

THE END

……….

14.

You lay there, resting your head on the welcome mat, shrieking. Frankly, it’s rather relaxing. Yoga for the throat. It’s a little worrying the way you initially can’t stop, but after an hour you get yourself under control, just in time to be hit in the face by the snail-mail as it’s thrust through the letterbox at a speed suggesting a postman in the throes of mortal terror over what he can hear.

You’re feeling much more alert, but it’s well past mid-morning. Do you:

(a) immediately go upstairs and sit down in front of your computer, ready to salvage your working day? (Go to 11)
(b) Decide the morning is written off, and since you’ve got an hour before your afternoon writing schedule kicks in, watch a single episode of Battlestar Galactica? (Go to 3)

……….

15.

You instantly fall into the deep sleep of successful denial. When you wake later, you’ll hate yourself. But while hard work pays off over time, laziness pays off right now. And hey, you never wanted your dreams to come true anyway – after all, what would you have to dream about when you sleep in every day? Exactly.

THE END

……….

16.

With the whole of the bountiful land of Cloudlip to play with, you quickly find what you’re looking for. But you need more! Do you:

(a) look for gold? (Go to 16)
(b) look for experience points? (Go to 16)

……….

17.

Once on Twitter, you discover an amazingly unmissable conversation about how long pieces of string should be, and you end up telling strangers they are complete idiots, which is enormously satisfying. The morning passes briskly until you realise you haven’t even checked Facebook yet, or updated Pinterest. You do this, taking your time as of course you should (because you’re an artist, not a hack).

Then, since you once heard of someone whose friend lived next door to a person whose brother got a job through LinkedIn, you spend 2 hours cropping yourself a new profile picture from the least worst Christmas party you recently attended.

After that SmugMug, Stumbleupon, Flickr and Klout all need your input. (Or you need theirs. Same difference!).

Then someone pings you on Skype.

You are now so far down the rabbit hole that not even the soles of your feet are showing. There’s no escape for today.

Game over.

THE END

Image: _Zeta_.

I’d love to tell you about all the amazing stuff I saw up on Hadrian’s Wall this week, or the things I have lined up for this blog in 2012, or the places I’ll soon be visiting and writing about, or start telling you about the other major thing I’ll be writing about for the next few months…

But frankly, I’m still recovering from New Year’s Eve.

So, posted a week late (because I’ve been up in Northumberland, getting rained on), here’s what went on in these parts in 2011:

January

• Despairing of Twitter yet again…
• …and telling the story behind my favourite photo.

February

• Busting 5 myths about England…
• …telling you why I love your travel writing (yes, you)…
• …and enjoying a medical emergency.

March

• Remembering a romantic-dalliance-turned-frenzied-sprint-for-the-ferry in Belgium…
• Deciding that virtual friendship is actual friendship…
• …suggesting ways travel tech is really messing us up…
• …on the lookout for Greek harpoons…
• …and mulling over the lessons of the first TBU (Travel Bloggers Unite) conference in Manchester.

April

• Curling my lip at the ending of “Lost“…
• …applauding Gary Vaynerchuk…
• …furtling in hedges, better known as geocaching…
• …suggesting ways to fill your Kindle for free (my most popular post, currently at around half a million pageviews)…
• …the things I’ve managed to get right as a freelance writer…
• …and watching the bikers at Thirsk.

May

• Reaffirming my love of black & white photography with “Trains Lend A Sense Of Perspective“…
• …ranting about the nonsense of “good” or “bad” places, via audio…
• …raising an eyebrow at the concept of ‘authenticity‘…
• …and being led up Austrian mountains by really, really English people.

June

• Coming clean about the many things I’ve got wrong as a freelance writer…
• …taking a look at York Minster‘s eccentric history (including an Archbishop with a taste for piracy)…
• …and flying the flag for Megabus, the cheapest way to get around England.

Part 2 coming as soon as I’ve recovered from yesterday. Just…just give me a while. Thanks.

Images: Tris Linnell, Generationbass.com and Mike Sowden.

Here’s a story about how I found a folk band in my living room.

If it’s seemed quiet in this blog recently (and let’s face it, you could have heard a pin drop in here most days), that’s because I’ve been wondering what the hell I’m doing with my career. A month ago, the answer would have been easy – I’m working for a travel blogging magazine. A steady gig, a steady wage, a good bunch of people to work with, and a vocational platform for long-term globetrotting. A month later, I’m a freelance writer once more, complete with an irregular freelancer’s income, guided by little more than a love of travel, of writing, of travel-writing and of paintstrippingly-strong coffee.

There’s no need to question my sanity – I’ve done enough of that for the both of us. And that’s made it a tough month. (Try slamming a door in your own face sometime. It’s an education). I took a leap of faith, and for a while I fell, waving my arms and legs around and shrieking like a cheerleader. (Felt good, frankly. Try that too).

Then various things unexpectedly clicked into place. They clicked externally, giving me the capital to take off on some important trips in early 2012, including to Umbria in Italy for the third Travel Bloggers Unite conference. And they clicked…internally. I’m not questioning my decision anymore, because I’ve chosen the work I truly want to be doing. I’m a travel blogger and fiction writer, or, put another way, a storyteller. I share Brene Brown‘s reluctance to use that term, but it’s true: I want to tell stories. True ones, false ones, fatuous ones….and even more fatuous ones. That’s my thing.

And stories matter.

If you’re of a Zoe Williams way of thinking, you may be raising your eyebrow at that last sentence – but I believe it so much, I’m putting it at the heart of my plans and founding a new business on it. Yes, that’s a teaser. (Sorry).

Over the last fortnight, as I realised that in fact I probably wasn’t insane after all, I’ve been quietly relearning the value of turning up for work.

My dayjob is weekday afternoons, leaving me the mornings until 11am for freelance work, and so I’ve been portioning up that time, squeezing in all the things I need to be hacking into, every single day. And some days, what has resulted is utter crap. A week ago I spent an enthused hour developing a subplot outline for part of my book, and the next day realised it wasn’t the least bit funny. This was a problem, as my novel is a comedy. Was I trying to subvert the genre? No – I was attempting the literary equivalent of a protracted Christmas Cracker joke. I spent the rest of the day with my head mentally in an oven. And then the next day, I tore that page out of my notebook, took it into work and ritually fed it into the shredder. I never, ever had that idea. There is no evidence. Prove it. You can’t!

In the middle of all this, my housemate dragged me out to see a folk band.

So I’m sat there in York’s National Centre For Early Music, feeling gently weirded out because I’m about to listen to live music in a Grade 1 Listed medieval church (and forgetting for a second that medieval places of worship were probably anything but silent). And in the back of my mind, I’m fretting about my Subplot From Satan’s Crackers and the hole that its removal has left in my story…

Then, suddenly, something like this happens.

So after a while everyone picks themself up off the floor and dazedly staggers out, while I go in search of my jaw. I’ve not seen live music like this before. These guys are on fire. Really – how do you wind your nervous system up so you’re performing with that kind of energy and intensity? They’re superhuman. It’s like Heroes: The Musical. It’s almost depressing how amazing these people are. I love them. The bastards.

And then I go home.

And I find them sat in my living room.

The Urban Folk Quartet (Joe Broughton, Paloma Trigas, Frank Moon and Tom Chapman) look understandably knackered. I make them cups of tea, racked with guilt that we’re out of biscuits because I ate the last of them yesterday. “Would anyone like a drop of something a wee bit stronger?” I ask, moving towards the whisky cabinet.

The room temperature drops enough for icicles to form on the curtain-rail.

It turns out that the Urban Folk Quartet is running at considerably less than full strength. York is their penultimate gig (the final gig being the 29th of November, in Derbyshire) and the 16th in a 17-show run. They’ve been doing this since October 30th. On top of that, last night was apparently a very good night for a couple of them, followed by a less than joyful morning and a day-long wish for the world to be really quiet please in case my head falls off. And on top of that Paloma, who has spent the evening flashing a smile that would light up Mordor, has a heavy head-cold.

But they still turned up. They stuck it out, like professionals. They turned up for work and did their job, unfailingly, and the result was a room of delighted – and subtly changed – people, myself included.

I’ve just discovered Steven Pressfield’s The War Of Art, a book that has been kicking artists in the pants since it was first published in 2003. I recommend all aspiring writers grab a copy (and I’ve been cheerleading it to other writers). Here is Pressfield’s take on the power of turning up:

..playing the game for money produces the proper professional attitude. It inculcates the lunch-pail mentality, the hard-core, hard-head, hard-hat state of mind that shows up for work despite rain or snow or dark of night and slugs it out day after day.

The writer is an infantryman. He knows that progress is measured in yards of dirt extracted from the enemy one day, one hour, one minute at a time and paid for in blood.

When you turn up – even if you create something that belongs in Satan’s crackers – you get better. And eventually? You get to do what you do best in front of your audience, even if you’re hung over and full of cold, and by then you’ll be So  - Damn – Good at what you do….

…that the audience won’t even notice.

Doesn’t that sound like fun?

(So – why were they in my living room? I must have forgot to mention that Tom Chapman is the brother of my housemate. And hey, it looks like I almost completely kept my housemate K out of the story just to avoid giving that away. Apologies about that. Although look, I am the kind of guy that has bands hanging out at his house after gigs. That’s me all over, that is. Oh hell, you bet, baby).

Image: eflon

So, a few months back I was involved in the founding of a travel blogging news magazine called Travelllll.com, henceforth called T5, lest I break my “l” key. And I worked over there for a month, writing 30+ articles on press trip opportunities and the enviably clever things travel bloggers are up to, and rather transparently cheerleading my love of the mechanics of travel writing….

If you’re a regular reader – and Google Feedburner reliably informs me that I have a couple of those when the wind is in the right direction – you’ll know what I love doing and thinking and ranting about, and the bulk of it comes loosely under the category of “creative narrative-driven travel writing”. (I’ve recently been informed by a kind reader than it also fits the category “pretentious nonsense”. Well, it’s good to know I’m finding my niche at last). And I feel very strong that I should be doing more of that, in all sorts of places that accept travel writing, until I’m good enough to earn lots of money from it eat regularly. So that’s what I’ve decided to do – and that’s why I stepped away from T5.

And now? T5 came along at a time when I was shaking up all my work plans, and now I’m no longer writing for them every day, I’ve thrown myself back into planning Big, Ballsy Things – one of which may involve Cyprus…

So – T5. Here’s a little of what I was writing about over there.

DANGER: TRAVEL BLOGGERS AT WORK

• Michael “@mobilelawyer” Hodson, Nora “@hobonora” Dunn and Jeannie “@nomadicchick”  Mark, intrepidly clattering their way from Lisbon to Ho Chi Minh for the Ultimate Train Challenge…

• Torre “@fearfulgirl” DeRoche releases “Swept: Love With A Chance Of Drowning” on Amazon in Kindle format, the book gets 5-star reviews…and now publishers are chasing her. How about that for a successful business model?

• Diana June (@indiana_june) is cycling from Britain back to her home country of New Zealand, and she’s a little hazy about the exact route she’ll take…because that’s up to her readers.

• It’s time for another Passports with Purpose – and a whopping $80,000 target for two libraries in Zambia. Think you can help? Get cracking.

DEAR [COUNTRY], I’VE HAD THIS GREAT IDEA…

• Dear Britain…

• Dear Japan (1 and 2)…

• Dear Kenya…

THE OLD WAYS ARE THE BEST WAYS!

• Tablet? Laptop? In my day it were notebooks or a sound thrashing. And I chose both.

• Maps? You were lucky. When I were 7 I were abandoned on Rockall with nowt but a piece of chalk and a kazoo, an’ I were expected to conclusively prove beyond all doubt that the world were flat and then get mesself rescued before nightfall. An’ I did, too, & got a proper walloping for being too clivver. You wouldn’t get that nowadays. Soft, all of ye.

GOOD WRITING ISN’T A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH – IT’S MORE IMPORTANT THAN THAT

• 5 Ways To Unlock Travel Writer’s Block

• 7 Ways To Read Better

UNFORTUNATE TRAVEL

• Leaving booking your British rail tickets until the last minute? Financial suicide. Cue wide-ranging rant.

I recommend you keep an eye on what T5 are up to (I certainly intend to) – and I wish them all the best.

Images: William A. Franklin, raneko, x-ray delta one, avhell and ryan tir.