I thought it might be time to update the blog in case anyone feared for my life (I’m actually not sure anyone else reads it, so I’m perhaps just checking my own existence for my own benefit).
Today, I started to put pen to paper (Or finger to keyboard) on my first proper grown-up novel. It has no name as yet, so I shall call it “Polly” (That’s an in-joke that is intended just for me). I had the idea for it whilst walking my two idiot dogs. It has been fermenting in my brain box ever since, and is now ready to explode onto my virtual fan base. Writing is not easy, pleasurable or advisable. However, it seems to work for me, so I shall stick with it. I am full to the brim with advice that I have garnered from a multitude of sources, most of which I am ignoring and just going for it. I am approximately 1/85th of the way to actually writing it, but about four books in as far as plotting is concerned.
In other news, I now have a teaching job. This is a source of much joy to me, and I hope I may continue this for some time. I shall also be doing some of that there acting business again this Autumn, so I am currently reminding myself that I have lines to learn on a regular basis.
A new play called “Die 13” is pretty much written. Editing needs to happen on some other things before they are published, and there might be a compendium of plays so far published soon.
Oh yes. I’m now 50. How the hell did that happen without any consultation? Bloody Tory government.