Okay, so here I am it’s Sunday morning and it is official.
I have writer’s withdrawal symptoms, and I got it bad, real bad.
You see, I have 4 books in proof reading and editing by others and I have the compelling urge, no, it is much worse than that, I have the NEED to write.
I have knocked up a 1500 word short story, a 36 line poem and it is getting worse. I have even managed to find the old “final” versions of a book I published myself 9 years ago and have been toying with the idea of editing and re-writing that, but the files I had found were corrupt. Now I have files that are fine and it is tempting, very tempting.
For my next book (that is, the next one in my head that is demanding to be written) the piles of notes, ideas and what have you have been dug out, some research has been done and this all fits nicely into the plot and so on.
So, I sit here, with my computer perched at a funny angle with a pencil rubber under one corner because the processor was going bat crap crazy and refused to work for ten minutes, it was seriously hot by the way, and I think to myself, shall I?
I need my fix and I need it now and a short story just won’t do. I want 5,000 words, no to hell with it, 10,000 words. I know I can I have done many times before. The last book I wrote this month, was written in 21 writing days out of 25 and sits at a nicely shaped first draft of 107,000 words. Two days of 11,000 and 12,000 words took it to the checkered flag for a gentle 1700 final finish to the accolade that was just me. But what an accolade.
When you gotta write, you gotta write.