I’ve had the odd day this last week when I haven’t got much done. Work calls upon me to do sleepovers; being on site in case one of my charges has some sort of difficulty.

I’ve done this sort of work for most of the last twenty years, I’m bloody good at it (if a little modest) and more importantly, I enjoy it. Fuck spending forty or more hours a week doing something I can’t stand. I get more than enough of that sort of thing from relationships, thank you very much.

Having just started a new job, there’s quite a learning curve. Added to this, my decision to write the current novel from finish to start – in the voice of a Victorian adventurer – and, as you can imagine, there’s quite a lot to take in at once!

There’s always a balancing act when there’s a job and some creative activity fighting for attention. and I’m not one of those who can work in a no-brainer job while composing in my head. I used to be, but with my memory ravaged by age and misuse, nowadays, if I don’t write something down at once, it’s gone, back into the ether from whence it came!

Nah, I prefer something with a challenge, something that takes me away from the bizarre universes I carry around in my skull!

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