It’s been a year of ups and downs. Progress with the sequel has been good while my heart kept me off the bike. Now the heart is fixed and I’m back in the saddle and just returned from a cycling trip to Mallorca where I got plenty of sun and caught up on many missed miles on the road, and best of all, the heart behaved itself.
Back at my desk, it’s time to put this sequel to bed and finish the first draft. I have found when writing novels, it gets to a point where there is a tremendous momentum in the story. I’ve never parachuted, but from what I’ve heard, it’s a bit like the ground rush when the hard earth is approaching. I’m bracing myself for the landing when it’s all done, I type The End and set it aside for a while before returning for the edit. The slightly weird thing is, to continue the metaphor, that I’m not entirely sure where I am going to land. There’s a number of possible endings. I’m sure one will rise up and hit me, it’s just I’m not sure right now which one it will be.