Showing posts from November, 2014

When Planning Goes Out the Door

I often wonder how writers who plan their days manage it. With the time for writing, eating, socialising etc in specific hours. The whole day is scheduled. How do they manage when inspiration hits? I wonder whether that time is also meted out, and the tap turned off when the hours are done?

Today was slated to be a day of housework. Not that I write these chores on a slate. More like an old envelope. A list of jobs to be done before Saturday. The cool weather after the storm. Perfect day for it.

The remains of the plague of Argentinian Scarab Beetles needed to be swept up, the ants trying to move indoors had to be vacuumed as well as the clots of dust and dandelion parasols lying about.

I woke before dawn and spent the next hour planning the beginning chapters of a novel not-on-the-go. Why that one, I don't know. I'm up to date with my Saturday Scenes post. I'm needing inspiration on Old Gaunt, the prequel to Monster-Moored which is still with the beta-readers. The Owl pro…

Book Cover, Monster-Moored

The novel is still with the beta readers, but the book cover is ready to go and I can't wait to show it off.

Tardi Mack is only barely himself when visualises himself in the last scene of the novel. Wind and waves are the same. Even his surfboard is more real than ... 
No. He refuses to think into that direction. Slop slop. He moves his feet to stop his toe-roots growing into the ground. 
He must move on. He must leave the valley if his transformation is to mean something.