I’m writing this from Toulouse railway station, where I’m awaiting the train to Albi. I caught the train to Paris yesterday evening, and then the overnight train down here to Toulouse. I’m here in France to spend a couple of weeks working on the final draft of my next novel, Goat Music. It has been a long time in the works, this book, and so it’s good to have the chance to spend time wrestling the draft into shape.
As a writer, I tend to work in concentrated bursts. I am in awe of those otherworldly figures who rise up at morning the morning, sharpen their HB pencils, and write longhand for two hours whilst the house is still quiet, calmly piling up the pages beside their desk. But I don’t work like this, and never have. I’m all fits and starts, sometimes not touching my writing for days on end, and then hiding away to spend hours and hours writing intensively (this is what I euphemistically refer to as a “holiday”).
I should have access to the Internet in the room I am renting (cheap, basic, looking out onto a little square – on paper at least it is perfect), so I’ll post here to update on my progress to let visitors know if I am getting the better of the goat, or vice versa. Happy Easter all!