My eighth novel. The Uncommon Courtesy of Sugar Honey Wallace, is having birthing difficulties but it's nothing that some boiled sheets, a burning candle and a foul-tempered old woman in a bonnet can't fix.
I'm the foul-tempered old woman in a bonnet, by the way.
And the things I can do with a burning candle. If your eyes aren't watering thinking about it, they should be.
The trouble with poor Sugar is not the delightful creature herself rather that since I started writing her I have also been writing two weekly magazine columns, one of them involving travelling to exotic places far and near.
In the year I've been doing both I have been to New York (twice, each time for a month), Charleston, SC, and Los Angeles in the US; the Fiji islands; Beijing and Shanghai in China; Northern Queensland, Tasmania, and Melbourne in Australia, and literally from one end (Invercargill) of New Zealand to the other (Bland Bay).
So my time spent at the computer has been, how shall I say, compromised. But in a good way. Until now. Now I see it has been compromised in a bad way. But as soon as I get this next draft finished and flit off to Sydney and northern NSW, then Paris, it will be in a good way again.
Everything will be in a good way.
Take that, bonnet!