I have been guilty of a bit of lack of focus lately, writing-wise. I have written maybe more than before, but my mind has been beaming with new ideas for short stories, introspective pieces and so on. All very well, but I need to project my energy (my limited energy!) into my main project. I need to focus back on the novel. To pull off this kind of project in the circumstances I find myself in (family commitments, financial commitments, etc) requires sharp focus.

I can see that my book is nearly written; somewhere within those pages is the skeleton of what the novel will one day be. And the last effort is always hard. I know, deep down, that to say that it is finished will take much revision of my brain, of my ideas and my self-identity. It's a revision for the better, for sure, but a revision still. Often, it's much more comfortable to behave as before and live life without great leaps. Some part of my unconscious brain is staging a rebellion against the finishing of the book, and it's my job that this rebellion never becomes more than idle talk.

The book will go on...

And one day, it will be finished