Friday, 28 January 2011


Woke up feeling dazed, not knowing what timeline or part of reality I was in. I knew I shouldn't start trying to work out the temporal mechanics of my plot late at night. Actually it wasn't the timeline that was causing me the problems. That was the bit where I had to explain why the mad professor wanted to destroy the civilization. Apparently 'because he just does' isn't a good enough reason. (Well, tell that to the Professor, I thought and then maybe we could avert the collapse of civilization).

My husband likes to get involved in this process. He tends to notice when I'm looking pretty traumatized. So I sit there, getting more traumatized as he tells me things like 'you're making this up as you go along, aren't you?' He gets a particularly grim look of satisfaction on his face, you see.

So I say, 'of course I'm bloody well making it up'. I'm writing a novel aren't I?

More About Writing a Novel...

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