Years ago, when the kids were little my friends and I used to bemoan the fact that we could never finish a sentence – let alone a conversation – without some kind of interruption from a toddler. It seems like nothing has changed. Half a thought in and I’m…oh hello – there’s an idea, yes, let’s do that. What was I saying before? I have no idea!

So my journal pages read like racing through an underground station trying to catch ads in snippets before they disappear. My attempt at a blog is no better.

Distraction. Where was I? Where am I? who am I?

Let’s start again.

My name is Linsey Potter. And for the past 20 years I’ve been told to write. Write what? That’s one of the problems. I don’t know what. I can’t decide. I don’t know where to start. I’ve read the book The War on Art – brilliant little book by the way and perfect for people like me who can’t concentrate on something for long as it’s made up of tiny little gems of chapters; I’ve asked writers for tips; I’ve worked out a schedule of when; I’ve bought the notebook; I’ve found the pen I like.

Which brings another issue – do I write on the computer or do I write in the notebook? I don’t know!!

So now what? Now everything is in place I suppose I have to write. But what about? Oh yes, distraction…

Interesting word, distraction. Dis – tract – shun. Track right in the middle of dis and shun. Not much hope to keep on track!

Oh, that’s a good cup of coffee. Nice view out of the window. Jogger going past. I really must start my jogging again. When did I last jog? I can’t remember it was so long ago. Ooh but I forgot my neck hurts too much. I really must get an appointment…oops…

Dis. Track. Shun. Where was I? where was this going?

Anyone who has persevered for this long in reading this is going to be wondering the same.

Right. Focus.

How much does distraction stop me doing what I want/need/ought to do?
And why?

Is it just that I never took control of those habits of broken conversations with toddlers around? Did I just allow myself to be distracted by whatever caught my eye or ear? Was it just too easy to allow myself to wander off track? Too much effort to do it any differently? And dare I say it – was there even a sort of pride in being so flaky/flighty/ditsy?

I guess the question is – shall I use my flaky-flighty-ditzy-ness for evil or shall I use it for good?

So, I have a choice. I can choose to give in to it all or I can choose to keep getting my pen and book out and pushing through.

I will dis and shun distraction. And persevere with writing. And for those of you who have got this far – thank you!