See, that’s the trouble with any kind of writing — news, blogs, fiction — it’s all the same. It’s hard.
You sit yourself at the keyboard and demand that words flow from your mind, through your fingers, to the screen. Then —
Ooh, there’s a text message.
I wonder what’s in the fridge?
Ah, yes, writing. I think my headphones are broken.
See, I’m not one of those people who must wait for inspiration to strike to put pen to paper. Inspiration is lightning-fast, a flash of brilliance that rushes through the cortex as your fingers race to capture its essence.
Looks like rain.
No matter how nimble your digits, they will never keep up. Better to sit and type endless crap, rip it to shreds, and start over. Those little scraps make great mulch for the hamster cage. Which, incidentally, is a more appropriate place for most of my writing.
Seriously, who can write with all these distractions.