It’s that time of the years again. This time exactly two years ago I was sitting in my East Dulwich flat, hacking away at the manuscript for Bringing Nothing. I just looked back at the version from December 15th – near enough this point – and the document was a little over 25,000 words in weight. Which meant I still had around 75,000 words still to go before my 31st December deadline. 4,700 a day, near enough.

Of course I didn’t make it – the final manuscript landed on my publisher’s desk in the second week of January – but as authors and deadlines go, I didn’t do too badly.

Two years later, and the situation is not dissimilar.  Slightly fewer words left to write, but due to ridiculous post-Christmas commitments, slightly fewer days in which to write them. So to all intents and purposes, the 4-5,000 word limit a day stands – although this time around that comes on top of the words I have to write for my two TechCrunch things.

The result: deadline hell. I’m locked away in a hotel room somewhere north of London, nudging against the outside edge of total blind panic, surrounded by empty coffee cups and Diet Coke cans, and threatening to kill anyone who comes within ten feet of me.…

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