This is a couple of hours late because, quite frankly, I completely forgot where and when I was.
I’m writing a novel set in Victorian times, and what with the research, and the writing, I’ve reached where that point where the world of my book seems real, and reality seems slightly fake. I get slightly surprised to lift my head from the page and see cars, and not horse and carriages going by. As for work – I’m in a fever of impatience all the time I’m there, waiting to get back to ‘my time’.
This is the ‘sweet spot’, where the story is in my head all the time, and all I have to do is pick up the pen to be back in my story. It’s all a bit disconcerting, being more in that other world than my actual world, but this is one of the aspects of writing I love most, being lost in that world.
So I forgot it was Friday, and I forgot to write a blog and I feel awkward typing on my computer, and if you’ll excuse me, I’m anxious to get back to Victorian London.