Friday 15 April 2011

Herefordshire

We're in Herefordshire for a few days, staying with our friends the Cs. Here's the view from my bedroom window - it's a longhouse deep in fields. The only sounds are the roar of a giant tractor in the skinny lane outside, and the lambs and their mothers -oh and a cow (they're Herefordshire Friesian crosses, I gather) has just spoken too.

Lovely Mrs C is teaching A level maths to our son, while I drink tea and prevaricate - I'm determined to finish the story I began a few weeks ago while I'm here. I sent off the last piece of work on Tuesday, and the next is a week away, so it's the perfect chance to get writing.

I've just agreed to read at the Betsey Trotwood in a couple of weeks, for the launch of the Salt Best of British Short Stories anthology. Very scary - the only way to deal with the fear is to pretend it's not happening right up till the last minute, I think. I've never done a reading before, only listened to them - all the more reason to finish another story so I feel less like a fraud alongside 'real' short story writers with books and prizes under their belts. I've three completed stories now, at least, and this week's will make one more, so I'm edging along to full membership of the fiction writer's brigade.

Time for coffee, then I'll start work ...

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