Usually…

Here’s what normally happens -

I wake up between 5 and 6 a.m. and lie there trying to work out what day it is. Then I dash to the loo and get back under the covers and lie there wool-gathering, deciding what I am going to write on my blog. This week, however, I am lying in bed working out what I am going to write in the next scene in PLOTTING FOR GROWN-UPS. I imagine myself in Sally’s shoes and put myself where she is, and then see what happens. I discover (from where?) the main gist of the action and some snippets of dialogue, and then I go downstairs and get a mug of tea and try to resist delving in the tin for one of Dave’s home-made oatcakes, and then go back to bed and write the scene, having explained to Dave (who has been up for hours and is looking at stuff on his computer) that I am incommunicado for the foreseeable future. (Doesn’t foreseeable look weird when you spell it out??)

So now I am going to write that chapter. And as the big D has appeared in this post, I must tell you that the scooter has been removed from the sitting room (as if my magic) to the shed, and the car – you recall he bought a new car? – is not BEIGE, as he said, it is, according to Jane, metallic taupe. Phew.

And here is a photo from last weekend -