Summer holidays are great. Having my children around me is fantastic. Unfortunately, it leaves precious little time to do any writing. Initially, I asked my children if they would busy themselves for an hour a day to allow me to do a small amount of work on my newest novel. This lasted for twenty minutes on the first day and was never repeated. I resigned myself to writing once they had gone to bed. But it is the holidays and they want to stay up late.
I cannot tell you how confused I became as I sat underneath my trusty laptop, intermittently snoring and trying to make sense of my storyline each time it morphed into random dreams. When I woke myself up by headbutting my laptop, I realised this was not going to work unless I was utterly uncomfortable and incapable of sleeping. This, it has to be said, is really something, considering I have drifted off whilst swimming; on stage with a saxophone around my neck; on the toilet; teaching … I could go on.
So now I have a routine that works and next time the summer holidays loom I know to set my laptop up in the dining room on a hard chair with no cushion, the lights full on, drinking copious amounts of coffee and surviving on five hours sleep. Of course, I’m not so much fun to be around, or look at, but my novel is gradually taking shape and I live in hope that someday I’ll realise my permanumb butt, caffeine addiction and sleeping problems were worth it.
The novel is the first of its kind, as far as I’m aware, and I’m hoping my agent enjoys having something completely original and exciting to offer to publishers very soon
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