Caffeine is a powerful drug.

I have deprived my body of caffeine for the last six days and I acn barely walk upstairs, I am so lethargic.

This was not unexpected. Him and I do this every January - give up alcohol, caffeine, wheat, red meat, potatoes and sugar. And every year I think that the alcohol is going to be the toughest to kick, and every year about now I feel as if every ounce of energy has been siphoned out of me in my sleep.

Nevertheless I tried to do some writing this afternoon. What a silly idea! I was incapable of any cogent thought about anything, and so tired that I sat with my head in my hands and actually fell asleep. Nevertheless I persevered in between stints on Freecell and having a look at what was happening in the Celebrity Big Brother House on the net bulletin (why? I don't even watch it?). But I wouldn't allow myself to leave the desk, and so in the end I had a little spurt of inspiration and I now have an end to the story. Probably a rubbish one, but i'll go with it until something better occurs to me, as it inevitably will. I also, as a by-product, came up with an outline for a new comedy, which I have a feeling might get written before the magnum opus.

Anyway, the caffeine mist is showing no signs yet of lifting, and I have achieved very, very little since Monday. I remember once last year that about two thirds of the way through January I met a friend at a coffee shop and completely forgot to ask for decaf when I ordered. After one cup of coffee my heart was pounding, my mouth was dry and I was giddy as I sped up the hill to collect my children. Normally I drink so much (brewed, Lavazza, strong...) that I don't notice its effects. It wasn't until that moment that I realised what a very powerful drug caffeine is. Scary!

Tempus fugit

I've been appallingly lax about getting to my blog regularly, which I shall try to rectify.

At the Encounters Festival I went to a screening of Cinema Extreme; a series of shorts made by directors who are on the brink of features careers. It was an interesting evening. The films were 20 to 30 minutes long and very different in style and tone. Afterwards I spoke to the Blaine brothers and producer Paul Robinson, whose Hello Panda closed the show. The next day I went to a meeting with Billy Mackinnon, screenwriter of Small Faces and Hideous Kinky, organised by Bristol Screenwriters. It was really fascinating. The thing I learned from the weekend was not to do with writing, but to do with the business of being a writer, which is a very different thing. I realised that if I am to get anywhere in this business I have to treat it like a career and not sit around waiting for someone to recognise my genius.

No shit Sherlock, you may think, but this is a tough one for me. While I do the basics; writing scripts, peer review, sending scripts out, posting on script sales websites, I am only appealing to a very tiny sector of the market. If I really want to get anywhere I've got to get into the system and become part of the film-making fraternity that I glimpsed at the screening. And to do that I have to got to the system.

However, I made up my mind. I mulled it over on Sunday night and on monday morning I gave up a couple of my major commitments and emailed the Head of Creative Development at my local Film Council to talk about me and my career. And I made an appointment to see her in January. So I look forward to that. I have put in place a plan. And I have to stop frittering away time when I should be working and divide my non-teaching, non-mothering, non-housework time between writing and marketing, and stick to the plan.

After all, I'm not getting any younger. Tempus, as the man said, fugit.

Oh, and on the social side, after a festive season of cramming my body with unfeasible quantities of food and wine and polluting my system with smoke, I am now detoxing. I do this every January. At the moment I feel knackered because of the twin deprivations of caffeine and any refined sugar (includeing that converted to alcohol), and I can't walk upstairs, let alone concentrate. However I know from experience that by the 15th I shall be feeling saintly, will have dropped half a stone, have fantastic skin, and be noring for Britian on the benefits of a clean life. By February the 4th I shall be back to the normal bolshy, lary lush that I am for eleven months of the year. And everyone will secretly confess how terribly boring I was when I was off the sauce.

Back tomorrow, I hope.