Like many writers, I struggle with trying to fit my writing around this thing that occupies rather a lot of my time. It’s called a full-time job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite a handy thing to have around at times, especially for things like paying the bills and buying food. But it can also become a bit, well, pesky. Like the box of recycling in the kitchen that is always overflowing with pop cans and needs hauling outside every time you look at it. It is a demanding sort of thing that can sap the energy of the most devoted employee. For a highly sensitive person, it can be overwhelming.