That's the number of drafts of blogs I have. Ten.

It's a ridiculous number. Some of them are re-hashes of earlier drafts. Some of them are things I wanted to say but didn't feel I should because of work, or other people's feelings (and sometimes the two are the same thing).

The shitty thing about it is, this blog's become indicative of where I am as a writer. Remember about four years ago, when I was going to be a writer, that's all I was going for and it was newly rediscovered and awesome and kept me going and made work bearable? I'd write all the time and I'd blog (and sometimes the two are the same thing).

Now? I make half arsed attempts to get anything down. My characters wait, frozen at whatever part of the narrative I lost interest in them, in the same way my thoughts and musings and philosophies are black words on a white screen seen only by me. I chip away, maybe a page here or there. I chip away, maybe starting a new entry that I just don't care about.

So what happened?

Hell, if I knew the answer to that I'd do something about it. All I'll say is, I didn't like my job. I didn't like going in and doing the same thing over and over, listening to the same petty bullshit from the same petty people. I didn't like listening to people complain about things they didn't like, and then never making an attempt to fix it. I didn't like trying to fix it, and being let down time and time again.

Maybe one day I'll write down exactly why I left. After 9 years, it was such a small event in the general cirquel jerk that it barely qualified in the grand scheme of things, just a twat being a twat for the thousandth time. But it was what I needed, I suppose, because that night I sent out emails and started looking, really looking, for a new job, a new life, a way out that was much more immediate than the Clipper Race (which is, among other things, another way out).

And I got one. Russia for four months, and now Florida. A new show, new people. Hotel rooms instead of mortgage payments. Microwaves instead of kitchens. Buses and minivans and aeroplanes instead of cars. Maybe it'll be worth writing about. Maybe it'll kick me in to gear, force me to clean up the drafts that are languishing on my hard drive and on my blog page.

We'll see. Something might be changing. I fucking hope so. Watch this space. Periodically. I mean, don't just check it every day, cos I've got a new show to do and we're working long hours and the internet connection in the hotel isn't always great and sometimes I'm just tired.

But anyway. Time to look forward.