post by Sophia Nash on the Huffington Post is about writing through the bad stuff and I so want to read the book about the woman left hanging on the cliff edge!
Actually, I'm the one clinging on - if she could do that through three years of divorce, then I can do it through moving house. Right?
This is a brilliant thing. This is what I want, but my
deadline is approaching at the speed of an express train and I can't even think about writing.
This should not have happened, but I had a fabulous (I thought) idea for a book and I convinced my editor to go along with me. It's still a fabulous idea but I discovered, after a couple of months trying to write the first paragraph, that this is not its moment. I suspect that like The Marriage Miracle, I need a character who I know - who's already made an appearance and who is going to keep nagging me until I give him a story. It took Matty a couple of years to get me to the point where I was ready to go.
Anyway, I put that to one side and started again and I was finally getting up a head of steam and a fabulous working title - Hot Fudge Sundae - thanks to Anne (see last week's post) when we had an offer for our house. From someone who had sold theirs and was ready to go and could we move quickly. Please.
I know some people do this for fun, but frankly I think it's the most embarrassing and difficult thing ever. Especially when you don't like the house. But, hey, and halleluja - we found a house we both love. And now I'm not sleeping, because my brain won't quit trying to figure out how this move is going to work (along with selling the furniture that won't fit in the new house, fitting in visits to the dentist, the eye clinic, the hair dresser and a week in Italy).
And my editor comes back from holiday on Monday and is going to want to know why there isn't a book on her desk.
Here is Liz. She is in meltdown.