|I know which one I'd rather sit on top of, but then, I'm not a fly.|
Anyway. Summer is here. Or at least, the summer holidays are. Working in a school might mean early starts, more chasing down corridors than an old style Doctor Who episode, and a quite phenominal amount of photocopying, but it also means a six week holiday without any school-related activity. But does this mean I shall be lying back in the sun and airing my body on some foreign beach?
Oh come on. You remember the bit about working in a school, right? I can just about afford to go outside in my own garden, if I'm careful and don't indulge in luxuries like food. But what it does mean is a six-week stint of putting words down on paper in as uninterrupted a fashion as can be achieved by anyone with a house full of rapidly-ageing children and dogs, who, every five minutes, want to go somewhere. It's not too bad, I mean the children are of an age where they can wait for their escorted trips into town, although the dogs are of an age where they probably can't wait that long for their outings, but with an Olympic degree of balancing and a heroic amount of coffee, I can usually manage to do some real amounts of writing.
So, this summer, this is what I am proposing: to finish the novella; to make inroads into the new novel (cautiously entitled Crush); to make notes on a possible project which I haven't mentioned to anyone yet but will do as soon as I decide what it is; and maybe indulge in a bit of light dusting. That should keep me busy. But please do feel free to nag me, should you see me freewheeling on Facebook or tiddling on Twitter - I need all the help I can get to keep my nose to the grindstone and prevent procrastination.
Which is what this blog post is, so, if you will excuse me, I shall hop off and write some words. After I've watched these unnecessarily fit young men cycle up a mountain, of course.
|Flies not shown, but there. Probably.|