Where Are My Writing Elves?

Santa promised to send me writing elves that would do the hard work for me and let me sit back and relax in the summer sun thinking witty thoughts. So far they haven't shown. Instead I'm wading through the current WIP tearing things apart, trying to use Blake Snyder's BeatSheet to set the entire three book plot lines in order so as to ratchet up the tension/conflict. And every now and again I start sniggering as I think of evil ways to torture my heroine and stop her from achieving her goals. But it's still a long hard slog.
And Christmas is only 5 days away. This means hubby will be home to look after the kids while I can lock myself into my room and write and write and write. That's the plan.
To get my mind off my writing troubles hubby has generously been taking me out running hill sprints. This is the part where he gets to lightly traipse up massive hills while I thump along like an arthritic elephant huffing and puffing until I get to the top. He stands there all cheery eyed and says "come on, you can do another one, push yourself!"... while my reply cannot be repeated on this blog for censorship reasons.
It's a bit like writing really, you're trudging along, thumping things left, right and centre, thinking you'll never get there. Others are traipsing along merrily enjoying life and throwing tidbits of encouragement at you as they breeze past your position and make it to the top of the hill only lightly sweating. While you, on the other hand, are dripping with sweat, your hair is plastered to your face, your fingers are swelling and your legs are writing you hate mail.
When you reach the top do you get that euphoric feeling of "man I did that, I conquered that thing"? Nah coz you look up and there's another great big hill with a 30% incline staring at you in the face.
Oh well, that's life. Until the Christmas Writing Elves turn up I think I'm just going to have to grit it out and keep trudging along and blame Santa for the postal delay.