Day one. Again. Why do I do these things to myself? (1/1/19)

Well, fancy seeing you here again. Who saw that coming? Not me. Not until yesterday.

I have a problem. Those who know me well are currently going, "What? Seriously? Just the one?"

Yes, yes, I know, but we're talking specifics.

Specifically, I can't just sit down and do nothing. I have to move. I have to occupy myself. Relaxing? For other people, that stuff. Equally, I'm easily distracted. I have the attention span of a toddler who knows for a fact he should be demanding Ritalin for his own good but can't quite get round to committing to the idea.

So far, while writing this, I have: sorted out some vinyl that needs to go back in the loft (brief aside - the plural of vinyl is vinyl, not vinyls, sort yourselves out or go back to Spotify, you don't deserve nice things), tidied a 99p 'action figure' from the movie Foxtropolis that's found a home on top of my Vox Valvetronix amp, shortly I will pick up a guitar, bass or banjo and mess around rather than writing.

This is the method of writers, folks; do anything that will stop you from having to actually place words on the page. Facebook and twitter are wonderfully useful for that.

And I'm obsessive. I'm currently on my third successive play of Microdisney's magnificent early 80s non-hit 'Loftholdingswood'. I think I'm going to see how many times I can play it before J comes in from the living room to implore me to play something/anything else.

J. This might be J's fault.

I walked into the kitchen yesterday said, "I've been thinking of keeping an actual diary this year." I know there are productions to run, meetings to have, some already arranged, others yet to be, thought it might actually be useful to document what happened this time round. 2018 was a massive year - four productions of three plays, a self published novel, a week in Manhattan, keeping a diary might have been something nice to look back at in my dotage. Which grows ever closer.

I had another thought though.

"But I've thought I might just bring back Mumbling Into The Void. Daily."

For those who don't know, I started this at the beginning of 2013; the year I was to turn fifty, the idea being I would write every day until my birthday. I went for the whole year. OCD and all that. The real purpose was to get me writing again, to exercise the muscle. Tell the world you're going to write every day and you'll never have the fear of the empty page.

Well, that worked. Nine plays, a book on Liverpool, a novel on kindle (that I really want an actual publisher for), a Highly Commended award in the Hope Playwriting Prize, a nomination for Excellence in New Writing at Buxton Fringe, a best short film award at Buxton, long-listed for a BBC award, sat in TV production company offices discussing opportunities, produced a concert film for an all time musical hero, five years of contributing to podcasts by The Anfield Wrap, broadcasts by Radio City Talk. The muscle definitely works.

It might actually be Amy Adams' fault.

Those who read this stuff first time round will know that the idea of a daily blog was inspired by the Amy Adams/Meryl Streep film Julie/Julia; well, I caught a bit of it the other night. It's easy to catch a bit of it, it's on the Sony channel every five minutes.

Not that I want to actually *blame* Amy Adams. She's far too lovely for taking blame. In all honesty, I wouldn't trust any man who claimed not to be in love with Amy Adams at least a little.

So, it's my fault, isn't it? I just love creating new things for me to do so I can complain that I don't have any time to just sit down and relax. And, let's be honest, I just want the attention. I can't live without your approval. I wanna be adored, as it were.

What to write about though? What if there's nothing to talk about on any given day? There were days last time out where noting at all happened. So I just rambled. Get used to that.

This year though? Well, there's a Tory government killing its own people with politically motivated austerity measures while screaming "look at those lads in the dinghy, those bastards are a crisis". There's a Prime Minister determined to carry through the result of an 'advisory' referendum that she voted against, and was only instigated by her predecessor to stop his back benchers from joining an offshoot of the Nazi party who'd been given undue prominence by the media because their self appointed 'man of the people' leader was a bit of a card, when she could easily just go 'sod this for a lark' and withdraw article fifty. I'm sure I'll get a bit of mileage from the racists and bigots. They're always a laugh.

2019 is a blank space, an empty page; let's fill it with wonderful things. Let's make some change, let's make our lives interesting. Let's make 2019 seismic.

I'm here all week. Every week. Fifty-two weeks, one after the other, just finding something to say. Seriously, why do I do these things to myself?

Because they're so much bloody fun.