Not even a night off

Well, my friends, yesterday I pressed the button that sent the document-that-is-approximately-the-shape-of-a-novel off to my editor, Lovely Emma. ‘Breaking Bread’ is done. Well, I say done. Lovely Emma will read it and (if ‘Surrounded By Water’ is anything to go by) make some suggestions that will (a) make the document-that-is-approximately-the-shape-of-a-novel into something approximating a real book and (b) have me slapping my forehead and demanding why I didn’t think of that myself. (This is the asymmetry of creativity in action.) So, once I’d sent the manuscript off, I felt a little bit pleased with myself – especially as I was a whole FIVE DAYS before my deadline – and prepared to relax and do all of the things I haven’t been doing since the turn of the year. I sent some catching-up emails, and I cleaned out the fridge (well, the top half, then I got bored and Alan did the bottom), and I indulged in afternoon knitting, and I allowed myself to relax. Which quickly turned into feeling, frankly, knackered. So I went to bed and I had The Dream. The one where I’m living in a house where I find undiscovered rooms. The Dream is always, always to do with writing. The rooms are always to do with books. As the books progress, the rooms start to contain people and art and furniture. They have views and noise and become as real as my own kitchen, or studio. And speaking of the studio…. look. The first post-its of the...
Source: Bah! to cancer - Category: Cancer Authors: Tags: Breaking Bread Uncategorized writing Source Type: blogs