Joys of writing...there are days so magical I forget I am typing; I’m just “there,” experiencing with my characters what they experience. That is the connection I always seek for in my writing – without it, I doubt I could connect the reader to the stories I want to write.

I've pondered about this connection a lot in my writing life. I often felt channelled by Sir Tom Wyatt during the writing of Dear Heart, How like You This? This sense of channelling is also happening with my new work...not long ago, I found myself with my character at The Alhambra (I wish!), dappled by the flutter of countless, white butterflies. Why on earth white butterflies and so many white butterflies, I wondered? I knew nothing about the butterflies of Spain. Forcing myself to stop for a few minutes of Internet research, I discover that The Alhambra is famous for its butterflies - and lots of white butterflies amongst them. Writers get rather used to these moments of serendipity.

Other writing days I really need to force myself to stay with it, struggling with self-doubt, wondering whether I am right to continue on this particular life journey of mine. Staying true to my aspirations has never been easy – not only for myself but those important people of my life. Emerging from the first finished draft of my first novel I became very aware that I achieved it through becoming rather obsessive and selfish. It left me cold. My family is the foundation of my life; they should never ever question whether they come second to my need to write. I promised myself I would be careful to never let this happen again.

I have tried hard to keep this promise. But it is hard. Both family and novel writing demand and deserve 100% from you. In recent years, I attempted to keep my writing time pinned down to the times when my gang are busily engaged at work or school – and leave myself available for them when they are at home. That might help explain why my work in progress is taking such a long time to finish.

Life is not meant to be easy, and my family still complains I’m on the computer too much. But my job as a teacher calls for it, as well as the other bits and pieces of my life. I do think my family can take the yet unfinished manuscript and my recent return to paid teaching, that “real job” they’re wanted me to go back to for the last few years, as evidence that they do come first in my heart and mind.

Getting a novel to a level worth publishing is rather like a pregnancy. Bring a novel into the world too early only gambles with its survival. Sometimes I wonder writers possess any power on that elusive “finish” date. A novel is born when it is ready to born.