Nothing But Flowers

I’m incredibly, incredibly tired. To be honest, I’ve been feeling like this for most of the week, and I’m getting the impression that disappearing off tomorrow to Cornwall for a few days is probably a good idea. Alright, I’m going to be driving so the journey down won’t exactly be the height of relaxation, but otherwise all should be well. After a day’s subbing on Friday and the recovery from the Clarke Awards, I feel in desperate need of a stasis mode.

I’ve ground to a halt on the rewrites. I just need a bit more energy, and then I’ll crack on. I’ve decided– this is going to be my final round of major rewrites. There will be some tweaking, but once I get this version of the book finished, I am cracking open the champagne and calling it done. And then, a few minutes later, I’m going to start panicking about the next one (I’ve had a very possible idea, but don’t want to jinx myself)…

The sun is shining, and George is out re-potting some seedlings in our garden. Life is good at the moment, and it’s going to get better.

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