As a writer I find that I work better with a dead line whether it be self imposed or from my publisher. I'm very good at sticking to my guns and plodding on until its all done and finished but I have to admit the most favourate part of the process is not the drafting out but the editing...Oh my God I love the editing for me this is where my story takes shape and becomes the book that I want to send to my publisher.
Usually for me I am a planner and I know right at the beginning where my story is going and how it will end, but something strange has been happening to me with my last two books. I have started writing and all of a sudden the characters have completely taken over and its not me that's doing the writing its them telling my fingers what to type and they are inside my head even through the night I am compelled to get up and write because they are pushing ahead with there story and I don't want to miss out by not getting it down on paper. Does that sound weird? Honestly I'm not crazy...well only a little!
You have to be a little crazy to be an author, the hours are rubbish, the extreme isolation is beyond anything I have ever experienced before and there absolutely is no time off, I am constantly thinking about my latest manuscript whether it be when I am cooking, perhaps cleaning and even in the very rare occasion that I do iron . I can be having a conversation with friends or family and all of a sudden something comes to me and I drift off into the world I am creating on paper until I unceremoniously get poked in the arm to be reminded I'm supposed to be part of the conversation that is going on.
The winter is for me a great time to write and if we get snow like we have had I find it so much easier to stay cooped up in my writing hole or aperture because it is more like a small passage way, a gap under the stairs where every time my twenty year old son goes running up to his room its like a heard of elephants are stampeding in my head.
So the nights are getting lighter and the days longer it has been a very long winter and I am looking forward to spring. The newly born lambs, the sprouting bluebells, the splash of golden yellow from the daffodils of yes at last spring is on the horizon.