This morning I typed in a sentence, checked the word count and clopped the lid of the laptop down – end of the first draft of The hundred and fifty-eighth book. There’s a vast plain stretching out ahead of corrections, continuity problems, dates to check, characters to complete, people to beguile into reading, etc etc, but it’s always an interesting feeling – to step back from making up a world in your head and re-join normal life without the ‘so what might happen when Hamish meets so and so’ stuff going on, at least quite so much.
I’ve started imagining a follow-on story, as is often the case when I’ve grown fond of a character and it seems odd to wave goodbye as if from a train disappearing around a bend – ‘wait, no! let’s get together again – soon, a chat, tell me how it’s going . . . we could work on something else perhaps . . .
One of the photos I will make into pen and ink drawings for the book, taken on a frigid January day 2017