What happens when I finish a first draft…

About few weeks ago I finished the draft of my new book and emailed it off to my agent and my editor. The process of sending your work for someone else to read has been likened to sending out your used underwear; it feels that exposing and intimate.

Fortunately they both like it, which allays the mortification a bit. They both also promptly went off on holiday, which gives me a glorious hiatus when I can quite legitimately avoid any writing. Well, of course, I could try to do some journalism or even start a new book, but instead I use it as an opportunity to do all those jobs that I’ve been ignoring. Oh and be with my children for the many hours and half term that they’re not actually in school (I don’t childcare, but work during their school day).

It’s a massive clear-out of house and body – I’ve had the facial to get rid of the blackheads, the trips to the refuse centre to dump unused toys and a pedicure for the even more stubborn heels. I’ve even started on the tangle of receipts for my 14-15 tax return. Oh yes. Now if I could tackle the photo albums and defrosting the freezer, then I really would feel smug. But that so isn’t going to happen…

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