Writer’s Log, Day-9

B12 day.

I worked away from the house today. It’s B12 day and I’m not quite sure what happens to me after the injection, but I just want to sleep. So instead of caving, I wrote at a local cafe with a mug of herbal tea. No complaints. They didn’t throw me out and happily let me occupy a corner table, making me welcome and just letting me be. A great start to Day-9 at The Odd Spoon.

The problem was other people.

It’s like my laptop was a magnet for curiosity. One chap made a beeline for me to ask  if I’d noticed the bus for Hamilton leaving already.

“Sorry, I don’t know. I don’t have WiFi on this either or I’d check the timetable for you.”

“That’s okay, Miss,” he said, drawing the latest iPhone from his back pocket. “I’ll check it myself.”

I drove to the lake.

Day-9 has a big editing quota. My beta readers are being drip fed my latest trilogy at a chapter per day and have become demanding. That’s a good thing. I love it. It keeps me honest and tells me I’m writing something gripping.

I cannot adequately describe the sheer humidity of Day-9. Even my bra and knickers had me sweating fresh from a cool shower. The lake looked magnificent until the rain began.

A group of children started diving from the jetty while the sun beat down overhead. They continued even after it rained, no doubt already emboldened by the humidity and the coolness of the water. I paused to watch them and enjoyed the peals of laughter coming from their little knot of bodies.

This tiny slip of a girl charged at her more solid brother, hoping to drive him off the end of the jetty and into the water. I watched, knowing it wouldn’t end well. Physics dictated the outcome. He didn’t budge and her body bent horizontal in her efforts to tip him over.

She reminded me of myself, bent in half with determination despite the huge odds which say that no, I can’t do this. It’s too big, too hard and probability says it won’t happen. I won’t make a success of this full time author lark. I’m doomed to failure.

Then this solid little chap just moved.

He stepped back on one foot, overbalanced and disappeared into a hail of spray. Just. Like. That.

Obviously the little girl cheered and hopped around in victory before diving in after him. It seemed like a score for positivism. I can do this. I might be a tiny cog in an enormous chain but I can make a difference.

In the spirit of honesty, I should probably tell you why the boy stepped back. I’d love to claim it was a moment of his concessionary generosity, or that her determination won the day. But then I’d be lying.

She punched him in the nuts.

Yeah. I snorted lemon and ginger herbal tea, which I didn’t think possible. My sinuses are clean as a whistle hours later. It wasn’t the only relief I felt either. You see, I can laugh because they’re not my kids. I’ve done my time in the bunker. I got to drive away laughing with the windows down while their parents sorted out that little mess.

But it’s taught me two very valuable Day-9 lessons.

1. I can do this. No matter how small or insignificant I appear to be, I can earn money from my stories.
2. There’s nothing dirty about aiming for the low hanging fruit…within reason.

Check out K T Bowes’ books HERE and make sure you collect the free ones while you can.
If she starts to really starve, they won’t stay free…

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