It’s been another crazy hectic week, with not a lot of writing going on. Even when there’s a lot happening in life I still have to get some words down or I’ll pop from the overflow. I generally try and stick a couple of paragraphs in my AllMyNotes folders of the books currently being written or edited, to be added to the manuscripts for later when I can get to banging away properly at the old keyboard again. I’ve built up a habit of writing every morning, and when I can’t it doesn’t stop the book of the day from happening in my head, so I have to scribble it down somehow or it gets lost forever. It’s obvious that people think I’m really, really strange when I stop in the middle of a shop and haul out my scruffy notebook and pencil. Don’t care really.
I did manage to zoom through a bazaar yesterday though. I’m quite disappointed that I couldn’t manage to spend a nice amount of time there, because there were some really cool looking things. Still, I got a fantastic pile of books on my run through, including a 1950 edition of the Culinary Arts Institute Encyclopedic Cookbook in excellent condition. I collect old books, and I’m really hoping that a box of them I packed and stored up in Zimbabwe before we left makes its way back to me soon. My Mrs Beeton came with me on the trip down though – can’t take a chance on losing good old Mrs B.
Anyway. Back to work. Apart from catching up with piles of books that I need to read, I’ve got lots of plans for the next couple of months with three books to launch, and with all the bits I’ve learned along the way now I’m getting quite excited. I’m also going to try very hard to use my camera properly from now on. I have a very firm vision for one of my covers, and I don’t reckon that a phone snap will do – although phones do actually take brilliant photos too. So I’m going to be stalking photographers more than usual probably to pick up some tips, but will try not to creep them out too much. Poor guys. Gird your loins photo people – stalker alert! Ha haa. So many people are a little scared of us scribblers. Can’t imagine why really, because we hardly ever barge around trying to lob our books at people, and we NEVER procrastinate, and make silly doodles of ourselves, and come across like creepy dill-pickles at all.