The trouble with blogging about writing your book…
is that usually, as you’re writing it, you are either:
1) really excited about it, spend every waking moment thinking about it, chewing your fingernails if you can’t get to a pen, and you don’t want to blog because you just want to write, write, write your amazing, brilliant, thrilling book.
or
2) horribly unhappy about it, convinced your book is a pile of poo, the worst book ever known to man, an utter disgrace, and you have no desire to blog about it because you’re so utterly ashamed of it that you never want to think about it again.
The other day I read everything I’ve written up till now. I approached it with fear and trembling, because I was feeling 2). I had to stuff a chocolate brownie into my mouth as I read, in a desperate attempt to re-balance my happy levels, which sank to a critical state every time I glanced at the manuscript. I sat in Sainsbury’s cafe and read it all the way through from start to end. And you know what? It’s not THAT bad.
