I really think I am going nuts. Today I forced myself to blog because I wasn't writing. Not only have I got sick of Seth and Osric, but I have written 10,000 words of a dystopia set on the Isle of Thanet in 30 years time when the water has risen sufficiently to make it an island again.
I was gasping at the inventiveness that was coming out, it was so utterly exciting - and then I slowed down, didn't write over the weekend, or Monday (I couldn't type because of deep cut requiring huge bandage). I have this feeling with the book that I should trust it - a plot will develop... there is a rough idea - a fugitive from London taking shelter in independent Thanet and the problems that arise... but we shall see, there are already a number of promising threads of plot. Or maybe I'll just start yet another project. I wonder if awaiting the Agent's response is driving me crazy...
I was gasping at the inventiveness that was coming out, it was so utterly exciting - and then I slowed down, didn't write over the weekend, or Monday (I couldn't type because of deep cut requiring huge bandage). I have this feeling with the book that I should trust it - a plot will develop... there is a rough idea - a fugitive from London taking shelter in independent Thanet and the problems that arise... but we shall see, there are already a number of promising threads of plot. Or maybe I'll just start yet another project. I wonder if awaiting the Agent's response is driving me crazy...
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