This blog is becoming rather like the Christmas diary I feared and predicted it would be. Those who praised it in its early days for the many gems of wisdom didn’t realise that those were gems which had been accumulating over some time, mostly during periods when I wasn’t writing a book and so had time and brain cells to kill. Since then, the decline of this blog has been pitiful to chart, petering out to the occasional posting when I have some self-promotion to do.
However, one can take the lamentable inactivity of this blog as a good sign. If I’m not writing here, it means I’m writing elsewhere. Which I am (although not at this precise moment, I admit). Yes, there is a new book in the pipeline, and the first draft is well under way. I am up to chapter 5, which experience tells me means that I have broken the back of this particular task, and it’s a live idea that I can see through to the end.
It’s not a Cat Kin book (thank heaven) but an entirely new idea, and in many ways it feels like I’m writing my first novel again, with everything or nothing to play for. What I am enjoying is the fact that it is the book itself demanding to be written. The characters want to run on to the next page. I’m writing not because I have a contract or a deadline or hope of money at the end of it. I’m writing because, frankly, I have to. And that’s a good thing.
The blog will just have to go hungry occasionally.