Yesterday I hit the 40,000 word mark, which is probably around the halfway mark. I wish there was time to savour the moment - but I don't feel like there is. This whole angel fiction thing is coming to the boil – but whether it actually takes off or not is the big question. Both Gillie (my possible agent) and Paddy (my possible publisher) have said to take my time and not rush, but I feel this urgency to finish it.
I could easily become a hermit when I’m like this. My routine over the last week has been doing roughly 2000 words a day, the first 1400 or so in the morning. After lunch I’ve headed to the beach with my travel mug of coffee and gone for a good long walk, just letting the air blow away all the crazy. As I walk I record any snatches of dialogue or scene ideas on my mobile phone. Once I’m back at the car I park up facing the water and slurp my caffeine down with a notebook on my lap.
When I come back home it takes me a while to get those last 5-600 words down, but it feels good when they are nailed to the page (or rather the screen). I feel tired from the mental energy going into it all, but I’m also relishing this really simple life. I feel like an amoeba – sleep, eat, write, walk. The husband is absorbed in redrafting his PhD and I’m absorbed in writing this first draft.
Last night we went round to dinner with a couple of Colm’s work colleagues. They made delicious food and interesting conversation. It was a lovely evening and I totally enjoyed it – once I was there. Getting me there was like prising a limpet off a rock. I’ve gone into this quiet, internal world where I spend hours on the computer or at the tide line. My uniform is a revolving rail of tracksuit bottoms.
I can see why so many writers are a leetle bit crazeeeee!