Time To Play The Game... Almost
I always know when things are going well because time I usually spend writing things for here is swallowed up by writing things that will appear somewhere else. To reveal very little - I'm a third of the way through the first draft of novel that didn't exist two months ago. The idea came fully formed and wouldn't go away - not that I wanted it to.
Running, running, running... not fallen over yet and neither am I running with scissors. Just a fountain pen that's proving to be quite the work-horse. Here's a thing that I've learned over the last few weeks: when you buy a sexy notebook to work in, such as a Moleskine type-thing, you will want to write sexy things in it neatly and make it into the sort of notebook that looks like del Toro created magical wonders in there. Who knows, maybe one day an important library might want to archive it because you rocked so hard.
But what you really need to do to get rolling when you're nowhere but standing on a cliff with your face to the wind, is buy a negasonic truck-load of yellow legal pads on which to hammer your words out without worrying about messing up your sexy Moleskine... and when you are done and have typed all your words up, you can burn them in the garden because The Dead need stories to relax at night too.
This is what I have learned to be my truth - and if you try it out, I think you might find it's yours as well.
Talking of The Dead needing stories too, I got wind of this coming down the line in the next few months. John Connolly's work is such a massive buzz for me, its one of the rare occasions I take two days off work to 'do it'. This one will be no exception - and so far, the man has never let me down.
The Independent quote on the cover does not lie, but like I say every year, if you're going to do this, you have to start at the beginning (which is Every Dead Thing).
I got nothing else to add right now. Busy doncha know.