Which I think I'm probably not, since in order to connect myself up once more I had to contact David twice (what a patient man). But thanks to people for their kind comments. I'm fascinated to read how everyone works - with or without music, how many hours/ words a day etc as I am completey disorganised. I write in odd moments when I feel like it, don't plan anything and have very little idea what's going to happen next (this can give rise to problems, but is also quite interesting). Is anyone else like me, or do people tend to be more like Trollope - woken by a servant at crack of dawn, thousands of words before breakfast, a day working at the post office (or on the hunting field), not forgetting time to make all those babies...? My new novel is in the embryo stage - a tiny heart beating, but not much else - but the new grandson is wonderful. I spent the week-end tearing round Reigate in hot pursuit of his two brothers (aged 5 and 3), equipped respectively with scooter and tricycle, wondering whether their parents woudl ever forgive me if they reached the main road before I did... By the way, am I allowed to write about this sort of thing, or should I be writing about writing? As a virgin blogger, I'd like to know.
5 comments:
Hi Frances,
I think we're allowed to write about anything! I imagine the blog as a kind of literary cafe where we can hang out with people who share our obsession. Some days it's intense literary discussion, others it's genial chatter. In my short time with MNW I've already been impressed by the friendliness and cohesiveness of the "gang".
Now, if Jenkins can only find my 12-bore, I'm off to bag some game...
New babies should always be discussed! I am so jealous you have one in your family. But perhaps it's a woman thing (or a mother thing) and the men won't understand... [Open question.]
...But perhaps it's a woman thing ...
Could be. I like kids, but I have no use for them until they start talking. And reading.
Sometimes I wish mine could temporarily lose the power of talking... Reading is good. A nice quiet pastime which doesn't involve any need to drive anywhere.
Frances, I was like that, until I had children. There's nothing like knowing you've got to be at the school gate at 12.30 to make you get on and write, come what may. I couldn't even be as honestly sympathetic when they trooped through the door this evening, an hour late because of the buses. That hour was 150 words...
Emma
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