I hurt my foot last week so all my plans for the last few days of my annual leave have been ruined, rather. I can't go back to work either, which I'm suddenly longing to do because the problems of my life are so gargantuan (or they feel that way to me) that playing with dusty books seems like quite a lot of fun. Needless to say, working in a library (trolleys with books, big piles of books, lugging books, climbing ladders with books.......) and a sore foot don't go together. Since I've run out of money this month and can't go anywhere, my only escape is working on my second draft. And it's going well - not brilliantly, but well. I still can't work out my male character but have realised I'm going to have to do that on the page. I have had a few flashes of inspiration regarding other problematic areas in the novel. The best one was working out the conflict between my lovers. Inspiration came to me while I was on the cross-trainer at the gym, listening to Marilyn Manson on my iPod. Yes, thanks, just when there's no paper handy......fortunately, I managed to remember the important bits until I got home and could write them down. Unfortunately, I think it was on the cross-trainer that I may have hurt my foot. Which leads me to believe that for everything you get given, something else gets taken away. In the last week, I've been quite desperate to crawl into a world of magic to get away from so much pain and frustration and hardship.
I just don't know where that world is.
I just don't know where that world is.
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