It's been a week since I've been able to write anything. And that includes my new novel. Darling wife and darling daughter infected me with some affliction which at first made me think I was going to die, and after three days, worry that I wasn't. It also made me lose a lot of weight which might be good for some people. As it is I barely posses the mass of a wet rabbit.
However I did stumble onto something I didn't know. In fact, it turns out that hardly anyone knows it. Suffice to say that now I know why, what we now call Marble Arch, was originally called Tyburn - the place where all those thousands of people were hanged for the heinous crimes of stealing a loaf of bread or something equally as awful. That has nothing to do with my book's plot but gave me a great idea. I'm going to enjoy this part.
Not a lot of difference, really as I'm forced to fight through the choking bottleneck of traffic about fifty times per day.
So, recalcitrant ponies and infectious families permitting, I should be able to get a few pages done today. I'm aiming to finish the first draft by Christmas so that I can pig myself out with no conscience before beginning the first edit in January.
I've done quite a lot and recorded it in my notebook. Sounds good: notebook. Like it was some ultra sophisticated ten core device with enough power to send half a dozen rockets to the moon simultaneously. In fact it's just a notebook. The whole thing (with Bic pen) cost me £1.25)
Not as elegant perhaps but it also serves as my tray while I'm eating sandwiches and trying not to spill tea whilst parked in a dark alley, in the middle of the night, while my boss is having a good time somewhere.
Bitter? Not me.