The next book has started to crawl out of my head and onto a page. This morning with a real pen on real paper as I travelled to work on my daily commute. Would it be tremendously pretentious to say that I couldn’t stop it? It just had to come out kicking and screaming and land on my page? Well tough because that’s what happened. And my oh my how I loved it. The feeling of excitement in my tummy as the ideas started to form and grow and spread and get bigger and bigger. It’s a wonderful feeling and that’s why I do it. Regardless of what the literary profession think. I love it.
I’ve written more about the ‘writing muscle’ on Wannabe Writer today. In case you’re interested.
I also had some encouraging news, but I’m saying it very quietly so as not to get too over-excited an agent has asked to read the rest of my manuscript… holy fuck!
