The clatter of keyboards, the ring of telephones, the hum of a newsroom working at full stretch - or at least the chat of a newsroom gossiping at full volume - how am I supposed to write THIS?
George Orwell knew what I'm talking about - in May 1946 he high-tailed it as far as a wee croft on the Isle of Jura to write Nineteen Eighty-Four.
"I'm anxious to get out of London for my own sake," he explained, "I want to write another book which is impossible unless I get at least six months' quiet." He finished the book two years later, but the effort combined with the cold of the northern winter nearly killed him - the tuberculosis that had been stalking him for a decade finally did for him in 1950.
Now a 180-year-old whisky distillery on the island has opened a holiday let in what used to be the house of the head distiller, and has teamed up with Scottish Book Trust to offer writers' retreats.
Alexander McCall Smith, Kathleen Jamie and Liz Lochlead have already taken advantage of the luxury accommodation, designed by the delightfully-named Bambi Sloan.
Next up is Will Self, who has high hopes for his sojourn by the Sound of Jura, telling the Today programme that he's "a little bit of a mystic when it comes to the creative imagination". "I think the presence of large bodies of moving water acts upon the imagination," he continued, "it pulls it in a tidal fashion."
He'll be writing a short story during his three-week stint and doing some "deep foundational work" on his next novel. Which is obviously what I'd be doing right now, if I could just get some peace and quiet. Or at least, that's what I tell myself.
The writer's retreat is a beautiful idea for those of us who probably will never go on one. Will Self has been "going to Scots islands of one stripe or another for years", and long may he continue. The further away he goes, the more complete his isolation from the racket of everyday life the more believable those excuses will sound, the less guilty any of us needs to feel about not getting round to whatever it is just yet.
So tell me. How's the water round where you are? Pulling nicely? Or is your head full of nothing more than the whine of the laser printer and the glug of the water-cooler. Mine is.
