It has been far too long since I’ve written a blog post. I’ll admit to thinking about it a few times, but life gets in the way, and I always end up being distracted by a different task. It’s been a crazy couple of months, and I apologise for my absence.

As you may know, I’ve been working on completing the first draft for my newest novel, ‘Lamington’. I am pleased to report that work has been steadily progressing, and I’ve only got five chapters left to go. This is lucky, as I set myself the goal of completing the first draft by the end of August. I’ve already confirmed the availability of five wonderful people who’ve agreed to be beta readers (ahh!) and am trying to keep my fears, self-doubt, and over-thinking from stopping me reaching this all-important milestone, the completion of the first draft.

First drafts can be incredibly fun to write. What’s not to like about a story unfolding before your eyes? It’s been great to work on this different project and give ‘Murphy’s Bluff’ a little bit of breathing room. I am regrettably a bit of an empath and do find myself empathising with my characters a little bit too much. Yes, it can be a little bit of fun to torture my characters at times, but I do feel dreadfully sorry for what I make them endure. I’ve shed tears and had a few laughs in the creation of this story.

I’ve had to be diligent to stay on task to reach my writing goal. I find myself getting a bit stir crazy when kept away from my writing, so I think it’s safest for everyone when I take time to dip a toe into a story, even if I’m not completing a full chapter at the time. Writing ideas in my notebook can be just as important as fleshing out a chapter.

I’ve taken on a more senior role at work, which includes training other staff, so my lunch times have become my little piece of paradise, where I can forget about work for half an hour, eat as quickly as possible and madly scribble in my notebook. Some days this approach works and some days the noise in the office is too distracting and I am left with an itch I can’t scratch until I get home. Life is like that. Some days everything flows and other times, you want to tear your hair out in frustration.

I lost a beloved great uncle last month, the last of my grandfather’s brothers. It was a very sad time, and it made me think about this vital link to the past which has now been lost. My great (well, awesome) uncles would quite happily sit around talking for hours about the old days and regaling the younger generation with stories of their lives. I remember thinking that my great uncle was a bit of a bullshit artist, after being told at an early age about how he’d been born on the kitchen table. To my surprise, I found out at his funeral that he wasn’t joking, and it added another dimension to the family home he lived in all his life. It seems like so many stories, like the people, have evaporated and I find it difficult not to feel tremendously sad about this loss. My younger sister and I have contemplated working on a family tree (utilising the past work of others) and fleshing it out with anecdotes of people so that it isn’t just the general names and dates. I want these people to feel real; to breathe some life into their memories and my niece and nephew are always fascinated by different family stories.

Stories breathe life into the world. Whether they are true stories or folk tales or crazy, random anecdotes about a long dead relative. They are what connects each and every one of us, whether we want to admit it or not.

Despite life being a bit too busy for my liking at times, my brain a bit too worn out by the days work, I like to remind myself to carve out time to both write and read. Whether creating my own stories, or enjoying those of others, it’s good for the soul to enjoy time in another world, in another person’s shoes.