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Writing – sort of, trying to pick up where I left off after a difficult couple of days dealing with difficulties on the domestic front.

I seem to have rather a lot of projects on the go. There’s Entanglement, of course; still tinkering, editing, fine-tuning – whenever I look at it, there seems to be something else that could be better done.



Newer projects still have the sheen of the shiny, with that deliciously tempting New Novel smell. There’s Shed, of course. It started life in my mind as a radio sitcom but seems to have turned into a novel. Shed is lightly comic and more than a bit silly and, maybe it’s a mood thing, something to do with the descent into Winter, but I find myself turning ‘Shed’ ideas over in my head more and more frequently lately.

Then there’s The People of The Book of Ten. Ten is a huge and complex animal, a myriad of plot lines I have to somehow weave into a pleasing tapestry, but is, right now, more like my attempts at knitting, baggy, half-finished, full of holes.

Ten has three separate worlds, all of which have to be painted in full, detailed glowing technicolor 3D, then stitched into the body of the thing.  Ten is BIG. It’s complicated. In short, it’s hard work. I enjoy tinkering with the details, naming towns, creating landscapes, making gorgeous maps in photoshop and other diversionary tactics, building a plot from this multitude of ideas is a bit too much for me at the moment, hence all the tinkering and fiddling with Shed and Entanglement.

I feel in limbo with my writing. Until something definitive happens with Entanglement, it’s going to be constantly lurking at the back of my mind. I’m always thinking about it: should I do this, should I do that? Should I send it here, there or nowhere. I can’t move on. Everything else I’m working on feels like a distraction, an excuse, a prevarication.

And hark at me, moaning on when there’s Tesco’s to be visited and a doctor’s receptionist to do battle with. Time to get out into the world where the real people live.