The start of another week. And this time… well, there’s a possibility that I might actually know what’s going on with my book once I get to the end of it. Of course, I might not. This whole process (since the build-up to the rewrite, the rewrite itself and the wait since then), has gone on for a very long time. And I’ve still got to face the possibility that out of the two alternate futures facing me, I could end up in the one I don’t want. But, to be honest, it would be very nice to just settle the uncertainty, open up the box, and find out whether the cat’s alive or dead. There’s a lot of uncertainty lurking around in my head, looking for somewhere to go. At the least, I’ve also got plenty to do – the next six weeks, working up to Christmas, are going to be pretty busy. And I’m spending Christmas in Cornwall, and will be out of Manchester for two whole weeks, which is another unexpected but extremely nice turn of events.

What I’m trying to say is that by the end of this week, I could be a bit upset, and a bit miserable, but generally dusting myself off and readying myself to move onto the next challenge. I could be both happier than I can ever remember being, and gulping in slight terror at the size of what I’m about to take on. Or, I could still be stuck as Schrodinger’s Novelist, wondering when my waveform is going to collapse.

Only one way to find out…