Last night was the first time I worked on my novel for a while. I was too busy in real life to get to my imagined world. University work is getting more intense as well, so much reading to do every week. I am hanging on, just about!
But it means my story is suffering slightly. I am thinking about it all the time though. It has pushed poetry out of my mind which feels a little strange as I am so used to poetry ideas buzzing around all the time even as I wash up, change nappies, make dinner, walk the dog. Especially when I walk the dog. Now it is scenes from my novel flicking into my head.
Got an hour now, must write as much as I can in it.
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