General

With The End In Sight

I had a walk yesterday around our new town. As you may recall, a few weeks ago we moved from a rented home in Welwyn/Codicote to a bought one here about thirty minutes’ drive away, in Potton, Bedfordshire. So this is home now:

[Walking a quiet side road. Potton, Bedfordshire. Photo by me, 2019.]

I ventured to the Market Square to do a couple of things. (For one, I needed a haircut.) It is about a 10 minute walk from our house:

[Market Square, Potton, Bedfordshire. Photo by me, 2019.]

We were also doing more unpacking and general fixings up of the house. (Today, a boiler issue is to be seen to.) So I didn’t get much writing done, but I don’t feel especially guilty about that at this point. And why not?

I sense I am approaching *that* time for a soon to be new book where I sit back and take stock of the draft as a whole. Soon tweaking with “this and that” begins. I’ve learned that in some ways this is also the toughest time.

As I write, I don’t count daily pages or words. (I believe doing so is irrelevant and even dangerously misleading yourself; you could have written pages and pages of junk.) But I did notice this Wednesday night as I was writing: 501 pages (so far). Yes, the end is in sight…

[Photo by me, 2019.]

I started this novel – to be called Tomorrow The Grace (the title comes from real history: the Grace was an actual American sailing ship in 1797; and it is also meant as a play on words simultaneously to evoke “otherworldly” thoughts in a reader) – back in October 2017, about six months after Conventions: The Garden At Paris (“Conventions” there contains its own “double-meaning”) had appeared. Producing Conventions – it took nearly 2 years – had left me mentally worn out (and if you’ve read it you may understand why). Finished with it, I was also worrying if I was β€œfinished” permanently. However, seeing all of those short story writers around (including on here), and not ready to face another 2-3 years to a write a full book (life is, uh, short), I decided after about three-four months off that I might write maybe a short volume of several short stories, and I began with a travel one…

…and as I finished its draft… OMG I felt it was so ***bad*** that it will never see the light of day. (I still can’t even bring myself to look at it.) I decided then and there it was back to doing another full book even if it would take years to do it. Because, I realized, *that* is what I do.

I am hoping that in this latest novel you will meet, for example, “them”πŸ˜‚…

[From Instagram Stories. Original photo, Tenby, Wales, 2018.]

On Instagram last night as well, I also saw this:

I’ve read Delphine’s first book – in her mid-twenties, she’s scarily talented – and seeing that post I felt like something of an authoring dinosaur. I thought I had to comment a bit lightheartedly:

[From Instagram.]

We all do this our own way. The aim is always the same: to complete something we are proud of that we hope hope hope readers will enjoy. Have a good day, wherever you are.πŸ˜πŸ‡¬πŸ‡§

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