Lost In Space (A Diary)

It was only when I realised I’d forgotten my PIN number for the bank that I realised what was happening. When was the last time I actually went to the bank? The keypad made me stay away, fearing what might happen if I touched it after all those other fingers. I assumed the threat of Coronavirus was making me paranoid, but it soon became clear to me that it wasn’t the virus, it was the Lockdown. Giving up my freedom for the sake of my safety (and that of everyone else) felt like the right thing to do at the time, but now I’m wondering if going through this is worth the price I’m paying. I’ve lost time. I’ve lost hair. I’ve lost memories. After keeping myself insulated this long, it’s difficult to feel anything anymore.

Routine helps. It turns out I quite like structure. I wake up at the same time, write consistently, read a lot, eat dinner at the same time, watch TV at the same time. Without routine, I’d probably lose more time than I’ve already lost. Music passes time. Writing and working on other projects helps too. The good news is that I’ve finished another novel, a book for adults. I’m really happy with it and when this situation is close to being over, I’ll submit it for publication. Hopefully someone will want it. Next, I might write another YA novel. What worries me is that the industry might not recover from the shutdown shock wave. Publishers relying on funding must be helped as much as possible, otherwise we’ll lose a lot of creative people and the publishers who help them get out there. Funding should be fair, in theory. Let’s hope everyone benefits from the funding, because Scottish publishing will benefit most of all if we keep all the presses rolling.

I’m trying on different facemasks to see which one suits me. Unfortunately, most of them make me look like an armed robber. I thought about making my own facemask out of faux fur fabric, like my fabulous satchel I made last year. While fabulous, it’s totally impractical. But isn’t that what fashion is all about? I’ve also got gloves to keep me protected when I finally get out and about in public. They’re red. I’m very taken by them.

Happiness is Wasted on Me is still expected to appear on bookshelves in October. I’ve finished another novel for adults, written during Lockdown. I’m sorry but it is a Covid-19 book. Now this means it might not be published. You have to understand that publishers aren’t too exciting, and they’ll only go with what they believe the public want to read. And that will probably be books that don’t make us think of 2020. I’m at a stage where I want to reflect something of real life in my fiction. Now that I’ve finished a first draft of that novel, I need to decide what next. Should I write a YA novel? Something I can do very easily. Or should I write a crime novel for adults? Most of my books are fiendishly twisted murder mysteries, so I think it’s possible for me to do something cool in the crime genre.

I’m thinking it over. You’ll be the first to know.

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