I've finished editing my novel about dog walkers. No, really I have. I'm not going to do any more on it. I'm stopping.
Do you know that feeling? I'll just do a bit more. Change that comma for a full stop or replace 'and' with 'but'. Could go on for ever.
Now I need to design a cover and to get it into ebook format so I can give it to a few people to read and check for me. Check for grammar, spelling or sense issues and read for critical value. Scary.
I know roughly how I want the cover to be; it's just doing the artwork that is tricky for a non-artist like me.
I've had a busy week so it's good to have reached this stage though. And here to keep you going is an example of my - ahem - art work.
After some procrastination I've had a good fine-tuning day today.
I've been working on my novel about a group of dog walkers. I asked Husband for suggestions as to the title. He thought briefly than said, 'Dogging?'
I should have known better than to ask him although actually he was the one who came up with the dog-walking friends idea in the first place. And he's better at titles than I am. But still I probably won't go with Dogging.
Doggers maybe? After all there is a children's book called Dogger.
It's been a while but I'm back.
Last week I decided I would self-publish my three novels rather than keep on submitting to agents only to be rejected. It's such a palaver with every agent having slightly different requirements meaning it takes ages to submit one novel to one agent let alone three to different ones. Making that decision has been a freeing process for me! I am excited about writing again.
So much so that last night I woke at 4.40 am and began rewriting a chapter in my head. That's how excited I am.
So why is it now, when I have set time aside to write, that I am blogging rather than novel writing? And why does ironing seem a good alternative? Or even cleaning the bathroom?
Because I'm terrified.
So scared that I won't be able to do it. That the brilliance in my brain won't translate adequately to the screen.
Plus the fact that people who've read This Time Next Year love it - and my other three novels are all very different and I fear no-one will like them.
But I won't know unless I try.
P.S. I'm also in the middle of ghost-writing a memoir too but a) my subject lives in Brighton, and b) he's frequently away. Part of the reason he's an interesting subject is his role as police chaplain working in disaster areas - hence he's always popping off to offer solace.
