The deadline for Tribe book three was yesterday. I’ve been writing at odd times of day, messing with the last two chapters. In the end I used the method I’ve relied on before. I started a new file, cut and pasted the whole chunk I wasn’t happy with, and chopped and changed as I fancied, knowing I could go back. It’s obvious to anyone who saves different versions as they go along, but I don’t work like that. I overwrite, or edit, all the time so there’s only ever one document. Starting a second is only an emergency move, when I’m having doubt – something I try not to indulge. Doubt is a disease that I don’t want to catch.
So, the manuscipt travelled through the air to London – that still amazes me. Fax amazed me too, as I started work in the days of Telex. That stinted your writing style – all capitals, abbreviations and stops.
I met the sales force on Wednesday, in a beautiful building in a part of Islington that looked perfectly English in the full sun with the wisteria busy being mauve. It was great to be able to see the faces of the people tasked with promoting my book, and hopefully vica versa. They might come up with some events for me to get Tribe out of Bristol.
Bank holiday weekend means we’re in Woolacombe. A few days of no writing, little cooking and some sun . . . maybe.