It’s cheering to know Proust had this problem too….If I had not been so determined to set seriously to work, I might have made an effort to start at once. But given that my resolve was unbreakable, given that within twenty-four hours, inside the empty frame of tomorrow where everything fitted so perfectly because it was not today, my best intentions would easily take material shape, it was really preferable not to think of beginning things on an evening when I was not quite ready – and of course the following days were no better suited to beginning things. However, I was a reasonable person. When one has waited for years, it would be chlldish not to tolerate a delay of a couple of days…. Unfortunately, tomorrow turned out not to be that bright, outward-looking day that I had feverishly looked forward to. When it ended, my idleness and hard struggle against my inner obstacles had just lasted for another twenty-four hours.
Proust In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower (Allen Lane, 2002, tr. James Grieve) p. 155-6.
photo credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/cicilie/4682234397/
Image:
Gert Loveday's Fun with Books 
This is wonderful! Thank you. Now I’m going to get right to work on this history . . . as soon as I forward this post to a few friends . .
Familiar, isn’t it?
Much too familiar. But at least (I tell myself) I procrastinate by doing other productive things.
That’s what we all say. Not sure what productive things Proust did, though. Mucked out the stables? Cleaned out the medicine cupboard?
Went round to the pastry shop for more madeleines for inspiration?
touché!