Taskmaster

If the dog comes to lie next to me when I’m sat on the sofa, I know that there’s just one thing that he wants – a tummy tickle. I’ll do as he wants, reach down and tickle his tummy, but I can’t do it indefinitely, and when I stop tickling – even if just for a couple of seconds – I get the look. This is a stare of firm admonishment and a reminder that my job – as far as the dog is concerned – is to tickle his tummy until he decides that he’s had enough. The look tells me in no uncertain terms that I’m slacking off in a way that displeases him greatly, and it’s usually enough to make me give in, put down my book and return to tickling him until he either falls asleep or gets up and wanders away.

When I’m writing, the dog is usually asleep on his chair in the corner of the kitchen, so I don’t have a taskmaster standing over me, giving me the look whenever I stop typing. Sometimes I don’t need it – when I’m in the middle of the first draft of a new book or halfway through editing something to submit it to a competition, I’m pretty focused, and not much will tear me away from the laptop’s screen in that situation. But on other days, when I’m not quite sure where to take a story next or I’m having problems developing a character, it’s too easy to get distracted by something else, or anything else, really… rearranging a bookshelf, checking to see if we have any boxes of Christmas cards left over from last year, cleaning out the spice jar cupboard, defrosting the freezer… and worst of all, of course, is scrolling through Twitter. So, I’ve decided to use the above picture of the dog giving me the look, as the picture on the lock screen on my phone, so that whenever I pick it up, those disapproving eyes will tell me to get on with what I should be doing. Let’s hope it works.