I’ve just checked my email and my agent hasn’t responded yet. (I’m hoping to meet her next week to discuss the book she’s about to start submitting to editors.) I emailed her another manuscript yesterday, which she won’t have time to read for a few weeks. She’s not so keen on it, but she’s only read the first 30 pages. I know she’ll love it when she’s done.

Husband is back at work, child is back at school and my university teaching hasn’t started yet. I have a few errands to run and our house is a total mess, but I am supposed to be starting a book today.

I’ve already written this book once, and I’ve been messing about thinking about how to rewrite it for nearly a year. I’ve studied medieval women’s writing, I’ve played around with quills and handmade paper, I’ve worried about it all summer as I’ve walked up big hills and bobbed up and down in the sea.  And I know now, how I’m going to go about it. I know the story – and I love the story – and now I know how I’ll tell it. I am completely ready to write it.

And I was going to start at 9 am today. Now it’s 11:30ish. I’ve had a big breakfast, a cup of tea and two Alpen light bars. I’ve watched Homes Under the Hammer (it’s educative) and checked up on all my friends and family with Facebook. And I’m really, truly going to start. Any second now.

Wish me luck.

Although I’m a working writer, I haven’t yet published that big, breakthrough book. I’m hoping this will be the one. I need a new kitchen. I need a new shed. I need to pay off my credit card. And I’m trying to save the world by doing the only thing I’m any good at – writing stories. So I’m going to take a big breath now and open the Word file. See you soon…