Wrestling with the WIP, the passage of time, and leaving the house

Hello, my lovelies – how are you all?

I promised myself that I would update the blog today, but I’m feeling pretty scattered and dragging my thoughts into a cohesive post feels impossible. Have some brain vomit, instead! (Apologies.)

As the title explains, I am struggling with draft two of the WIP. It’s the stage at which I wish – fervently – that I planned my books, and that my first drafts weren’t craptastic brain-dumps.

However, I do know (from past experience) that the only way to feel better (about this book or anything at all in my life) is to write, write, write. Just keep going. On and through.

I’m also feeling distracted and emotional, as my youngest is coming to the end of his primary school years. He’s visiting the local high school today and, after the summer, will be there All The Time. No more lovely primary with its polo shirts and school fetes and playing tig at lunchtime. No more school runs (well, walks) during which he sets me maths problems I can’t answer, and we discuss our mutual love for The Avengers and Groot.

This, naturally enough, leads to depressing thoughts about the passage of time. My children are growing up so quickly and, no matter how intently I insist that they desist, the moments keep slipping past.

More practically speaking, there’s the danger that I will go entirely feral without the civilising need to leave the house twice a day. My children will come home at four o’clock to find me in my ratty old dressing gown muttering and twitching over a typewriter like Grady Tripp in The Wonder Boys.

So, there’s that to look forward to, at least…