Outdoors is good. On the water is double-good. We hired strapped-together canoes today and paddled from Kerne Bridge to Symonds Yat. Co-ordinating the strike of five paddles was hopeless unless one of us counted out loud which became turesome so we just meandered in an inefficient but pleasurable manner. Having had a dose of fresh air I managed to make it into my study to push forward on the second book. Am enjoying the emergence of a new character, but he won’t last long.
For all those who thought I wouldn’t have the discipline to write every day – as I pledged yesterday – ner! Wrote for a few hours today, all good, lots of ideas and quite a dose of quirk, which seems to be my style, as well as the obligatory dialogue that graces every page. My characters have to speak a lot. It’s a Tribe rule.
At last. I opened the word file containing my next book today, horrified that I hadn’t touched it since May 22! What sort of a writer am I? (If my publisher is reading this – don’t worry, I’ll get it done.) I was inspired by the combination of a gap in the summer holiday schedule where I had no kids and a conversation with a 10 year old boy called Gulliver who had read the first book and had all sorts of encouraging observations to make. I rewarded his interest with a peek at the cover of the sequel and he was visible excited by the addition of a dog – not just any dog, a labradoodle. As always I started by re-reading and found it most enjoyable, especially all the bits I can’t remember writing. It’s so strange that I forget what I’ve written and then read it back as though it’s for the first time. Am on a roll now. Writing every day – that’s the future.
It reminds me of being a kid – deathly dull Sundays with only an old film on the TV or a board game. Too much lunch and only school to look forward to. Except I’m not going to school tomorrow, I’m going to the library to run a story-making workshop. I’m hoping for a smaller audience that normal so we can make a better story with less diverse agendas – we’ll see. At least when the attendance is voluntary you know there’s no one there who can’t bear books, reading, words . . . unless of course they’ve been dragged by a literary parent with over-expectation disorder.
It’s a quiet week ahead. Two boys disappearing with their dad and a daughter at the social highlight of the year: Chat-a-box. I might even crack on with Goodbye Copper Pie – the second Tribe book. Now there’s an idea.