Dear Diary. Well, I've done zero work today. I was supposed to work on my books for four hours today but I did no work at all. I did no work on Monday too, so I've only worked two days this week. And on each of those two days, I only worked four hours.

Flipping heck, Paul, if you're reading this from the future and you're still poor, then I'm sorry because it's my fault you're poor. It's my fault because I should have worked harder when I had the chance to become rich from books. Now it's probably the year 2030 and all books are made by AI.

The reason I did zero work today was because this morning I was editing a film I want to submit to the Subtravelling film festival. I made films for the festival in 2021 and again in 2022 and neither of my entries won anything, so I'm hoping the third time's the charm.

Then I was trying to finish the film I made for Correcurts two weeks ago. I'm still not finished yet. I mean, I submitted it to Correcurts a couple of weeks ago and won a prize, but I'm still not happy with the final edit.

I need a green screen to finish it. I bought one online second-hand recently. I set it up for the first time today in the living room while Girlfriend was working from home in the spare bedroom. I discovered bits are missing from it. Not important bits, just the bits that hold the green screen to the frame and stop it from falling off. I've resorted to using wooden clothing pegs for now.

Then at night, after the kids had gone to bed, I planned to work on my books for a couple of hours, but instead, I went for a walk while listening to the last three songs on Vampire Weekend's album Contra. The music inspired me to write about how my parents met for a reason I can't remember. It was some lyric in Giving Up the Gun I think. Anyway, when I got back home I started writing. That took an hour and I'm still not entirely sure about how my parents met. I know they met in a nightclub one night but then they parted ways without sharing phone numbers, so how did they meet up again? My nan said my mom left a note in the window of her post office with my dad's name on it, and someone my dad knew saw it and told my dad, and that's how they found each other again. Sounds farfetched. I'll have to ask Dad. (Though I doubt he remembers.)