I know: there was more of a gap in blogging than I’d planned. Please excuse me on the grounds of (1) falling and thinking I’d broken a toe, (2) then getting a skin infection on the same leg that after three weeks (!!!) of antibiotics is just about gone, and (3) the funeral of a dear friend.
Term resumes, and it is all change as my youngest is now at secondary school. This has its drawbacks: she leaves home about half an hour earlier than before. And its positives: she returns about half an hour later than before. More time for me. In theory, more time for writing.
Lovely theory. So far I have spent the time cleaning, washing and tidying up. It turns out that when I’m ill and unable to walk none of these things happen… For someone who is not very house proud I am actually ashamed of the state of Chateaux Withenay just now.
Still, can cleaning be more important than writing?
So my writing term is kick-starting with the Festival of Writing in York. A weekend without children, a weekend with writers, a weekend to focus solely on my book and the writing craft. What can go wrong? As I originally come from York it feels like going home. My husband’s concern should only be whether or not I’m coming back!
I need this. I need to get Book 2 completed. I need the motivation to be put given a jolt. I know Book 2 is good, but it isn’t yet good enough to release as a publication. I want it to be as good as it possibly can be. There are stories to tell, tales to make you laugh and cry. That is how it should be, and (eventually) that is what you will get.
But for now, I re-schedule my days and I try not to think about the piles of dust and tumbleweed of dog hair that rule the house. For now I think of Zambia: of friends, family and foreign living.
It brings a smile to my face. Time for another cup of tea.