Through The Night

I worked all night last night in a desperate attempt to get more money together so I could make the new year more comfortable for me. I actually can say I enjoyed it, but probably only because I was in such good company; I was joined by a few of my usual colleagues and as always we had a good laugh. We sat in Goodbodies and ate breakfast, and at that point it became clear to me how at home in Plymouth I've become again. Also, maybe it was the tiredness and strain of working all night, but I let out a few of my secrets. Number one being that I have a crush on a married woman at work and she was named. problem is that it's entirely possible that she will now find out, but that's only if she doesn't know already. Another friend of mine pointed out the fact that I am very flirty round her anyway, and that she probably has guessed.

Well, I'm still on the point of beginning my Historical novel. I cannot seem to start it and I think it's the fear that I'm taking on something so monumental that I might actually make a mess of it! As it is set in Victorian London, I have to feel comfortable writing about that period and have done the necessary research involved, but I just can't seem to get going from the point I finished at some time ago. I'm ready to write it, but I think I need to make a leap of faith. I think it's time to admit what I'm always afraid to admit or too modest to say; I'm good at what I do. When I write, something comes alive in me and my works become better than the sum total of myself. A female friend of mine has just finished my last novel THE GHOSTLY HEART, and said she thought it was very good, with great characters. She also said she shed a tear at the end, and this is the point I'm most proud of, because that's what I set out to achieve.

Tomorrow I plan to sit down and write my historical novel once more. I'll probably do a moderate number of words each day, which means it'll probably take me ten months to a year to complete it. It's going to be tough, but I think I'm ready.

Bye,

Mark Yarwood