I never thought I’d say this, but things were much easier last time around.

When I wrote the last book, thanks to the events described in it, I had no job, no female distractions, no interest in socialising; really no inclination at all to leave my flat in East Dulwich. At the time, I hated it. I was miserable. But my God was I productive. Apart from episodes of Diagnosis Murder, writing was my major distraction - and also my therapy. I could lock myself away and just get on with it.

Not so this time.

This time I’m not depressed - not particularly - and I have plenty of things competing for my attention, not least the column which next week is going to expand to fill even more days, thanks to TechCrunch 50 and the arrival in San Francisco of half of London.

This time I’m also living in hotels, which it turns out is great for everything apart from writing. I’ve stayed in over 100 different hotels in the past 18 months and not one of them - not one - boasts a comfortable work space. Beds, yes; bathtubs, certainly. But desks and chairs? Forget it.

As a result, my daily pattern is becoming this:

Wake up, make coffee, stagger to desk, turn on laptop.

Write.

For ten minutes.

Get distracted by emails, realise that my neck has already stiffened and my spine feels like its trying to make a break for freedom through my arms. Stand up. Stretch. Pack laptop into bag and walk to a cafe. Quetzal on Polk is my current favourite. Order New England turkey club sandwich. Find table away from everyone.

Write.

For ten minutes.

Realise that cafe chairs are even worse than hotel room ones. With the added annoyance of other people and piped music. Stand up. Stretch. Pack laptop into bag and return to hotel.

NCIS is on. A friend emails with plans for this evening. Something happens on Twitter. Distractions distractions distractions.

And sure enough, just as I write those words (which I’m doing while I wait for my club sandwich to arrive - no sense in starting writing properly until it does), an email lands from my publisher. He’s had some thoughts on a sub-title for the book. They’re good - but they’re not that good. I promise to have a think and get back to him in a few hours.

My sandwich has arrived.

There goes the afternoon.