The first sign of spring – forced daffodils in the supermarket. Give it another week or two and I’ll have snowdrops in my garden.
I can see the crux of my current parenting problems: my children are becoming like me. They spend too much time on their screens; they don’t have any real hobbies, and they choose calories over vitamins. It’s very difficult to maintain the moral high ground.
I’m 37% of the way through the fifth draft of my novel. This last week has been about finding the boring sections, staring at them, wondering what to do, walking away, and telling myself off for procrastinating. Then frustrated, viciously cutting and merging paragraphs, and as a result, seeing something far better emerge. I’d like to get half-way by the end of next week. To quote Ian Rankin once more, This is where the magic happens. It doesn’t feel like magic. It feels like a whole lot of work.