I sent off what I hope are the final re-writes of novel #2, Bobby’s War yesterday, so what do I do now?
Novel #1 is published but for the past seven years, I’ve always had that ‘homework’ sword of Damocles hanging over me. Now, there’s just a blank screen.
I feel bereft!
It was such a strange moment this morning when I opened my computer, clicked on new tab and just looked at the blank screen.
It won’t last long because I know my agent will come back with more ‘suggestions’ and then I’ll start fiddling again but at this precise moment, it’s all a bit of void.
OK, I know I can re-check for new reviews- that way lies madness, but I do admit it’s a very pleasant, and time-consuming occupation- or I could start novel #3 but somehow, I need some time out to reflect on what the hell has happened over the last year and a half.
I remember feeling like this when I walked out of my last exam at Uni. I wandered the area around the Victoria Building in Liverpool on a sunny day, suddenly noticing the birds in the trees. It was a surreal moment. Well, sat here with my very attractive boot on my broken ankle, I can’t say I’m experiencing the same unbridled joy of that day in the 70s but at least Storm Ciara and the ensuing blizzard has stopped and the view from the window is a little brighter.
Two years ago this April, I went to the Writers’ East Midlands conference and happened to sit next to the lovely Kate Barker who rashly confessed she was an agent and agreed to read my first 50 pages. That led to being taken on by Bonnier Zaffre Books and the yellow brick road began.
It’s been really good fun and I shake my head with disbelief at each waypoint, not really accepting that I’ve bloomin’ gone and done it- I’ve written a novel, it’s been published and fact is stranger than fiction- people are buying it. I know they must be, I haven’t got that many relatives.
So, what to do with this precious time? Housework? Nah, dust doesn’t show after two years. Go out for lunch. Yep, can do that one. Or because I can’t seem to stop this writing lark, I think it’s become too much of a habit, I could write this blog…….