Just had a great week. I decided to use up some of my annual leave holidays and dedicate a week to writing, free from the constraints of regular nine-to-five work. Each day I managed to write between 800 and 3,000 words. and the total word-count now stands at respectable 16,300. When writing a novel, you start off thinking, “This book might happen,” and somewhere along the way you reach the point where you think, “This book will happen.” Well, I’ve reached that point. I’m really excited about The White Cage. So excited that I’m going to take another week off work and keep going. Hell of a way to use up your holidays, some might think. But it suits me.
The only downside is that I’m neglecting my household chores to some extent. I can just about bring myself to do the washing up once a day (or every other day). And the dust is sitting so thick on the floors I’m waiting to see tumbleweed drifting by soon. Oh, the advantages of living alone, that no one has to see it and nag my ass off. (And yes, I am sitting here in clean underwear, in case you were wondering.)