Every time I sit down to work on my current project, its deadline bansheeing towards me, I find myself tempted bombarded with just, like, brilliant ideas for another script that I not only can see and hear, but virtually taste, too.
The past few weeks have been, in a word, difficult.
The Universe – ah, The Universe – has kindly pointed out that I am not alone in having this particular weakness: Mr August says You will always want to be writing something else.
Damn.
