I seem to have climbed into it this morning and shoved myself off from the mooring without oars.
That’s what happens – to me anyway, if I don’t write for a few days.
It’s been a long and enjoyable summer with our son being at home from art college; days concerned with running our small bed and breakfast, socialising with family and friends, but always writing, every day. First thing.
I’ve just taken the lad back to college, including a road trip of a few days so the laptop and notebooks got rather abandoned. Now back at home, the other half is back at work and suddenly everything feels very large, empty and a little worrying, with winter jobs looming – stacking wood, organising chimney sweeps, fixing broken guttering, etc etc. I know what I have to do. Start writing again and immerse myself in the next project. Hoxton is with my agent and I have a choice of which way to go next – a follow up? It’s written but as Hoxton has gone through so many changes, the back half is now not relevant. I’ve started re-jigging it but . . .possibly best to wait and see what happens with the first one . . . A follow-up to my other book, The Hundred and Fifty-Eighth book? It’s half-written but until the first instalment gets any sort of OK, it’s possibly not worth pursuing.
On a long hike yesterday, Mark (afore-mentioned other half) suggested I should start something new. I think he’s probably right. There is a story that’s been hovering around my mind for some months, based on a short I wrote called, The Panto-horse End. Like all my tales it will have links to the other books so I’ll feel safe in this new world ready to be created.
Just have to jump into the sea and tow the boat back to land. Starting this afternoon.
Nothing to do with oarless, leaky boats but I just had to post this beautiful image