So I started on a new novel today. Writing that is. I didn’t expect to. It’s been moving around under the surface of my brain for a few months now, but really I was planning on taking a break, after working pretty heavily on some revisions on another project. I have exams to prepare, dadding to dad, and, if there’s time, reading I’d like to do. Io9 just called Iain Banks’ Surface Detail one of the best of 2010, which is great, but I’ve only made it a few pages in so far, and haven’t read any of the others on that list.
But instead of reading when Connor took his afternoon nap, I ended up starting something new.
What I was really supposed to do was set up this blog and write the first entry, but then the first line came to me: “I was seven years old when the world ended.” And it went from there. It feels really good, kind of like standing at an airport right at the start of a long vacation. If things go the way they usually do, I’ll have a draft finished by August.
Connor, however, has just woken up. Still, here’s the first blog entry. Making it pretty (if that’s even possible with my limited HTML-fu) will have to wait until all the kids are in bed.
PS: The working title is A Little Piece of Tomorrow, but I can’t decide if that’s any good. Comments welcome. If they’re even enabled. See above regarding my lack of learnin’ in the ways of HTML.