Finding the time

Well, the double espresso finally wore off, but I still didn't manage to get any writing done until today. Flat hunting and going out (and generally avoiding getting my stuff organised) has taken up far too much of my time lately.
Still, I have at last managed to put fingers to keyboard and knock out another thousand words this afternoon (again, should really have been trying to sort my way through three and a half years of collected detritus - oh well). It wasn't great though - felt as if I was having to force it out instead of it just coming naturally. Never feels as good when it's like that, and I don't think it reads as well.
I think anyone who's tried to write will recognise the feeling. You know what you want to say, but you have to push and pull at each sentence. It can be very frustrating! And the forced nature of the writing comes across when you read it.
When it feels right, and it just seems to flow out of you, there's a more natural feel to the text. The sentences seem to fit together better and it's easier to access the world that you're writing/reading about.
Still, although I've had more enjoyable writing sessions, I'm reasonably pleased with the progress I've made.
I'm less overjoyed about the fact that I've decided that although I like the story I'm writing, I hate the way I've structured it. The first section is just one long blast of scene-setting and exposition which will bore the crap out of anyone unfortunate enough to read it. So, when I finally finish this first draft, I think I'm going to completely rewrite the start and try and work some of the scene-setting bits into other parts of the story (cue cliched flashback and overlong explanations that feel totally out of place). Not looking forward to that!
On the plus side, I think I've found a great flat. Expensive, but great. A nice balcony looking out over Sheffield city centre (and the busy ringroad, but we'll ignore that) and laminate flooring as far as the human eye can see.