Trying to put myself into gear again after the long summer escapade - finally I have brain time, silence, less chores. How can anything related to a house full of teenagers be called a holiday? I have written one story and a half, reviewed this novel around three times, kickstarted my cover ideas, and been interrupted about FIVE THOUSAND TIMES.
What about the beach? My tummy tanning? My freckle collection?
Not even a mountain hike, more like a hike with the watering can through my torn tomatoes.
Getting into gear means beginning to learn about book promotion and realising how hard other writers work (and are expected to work). I have just paid up for the Women's Fiction Festival in Matera and hope to catch a flight and cheap room. Can't wait to leave Veneto and set my eyes upon new sights. Quite scared by the idea of rubbing shoulders with a more published crowd, me being such a shy ting.
I wonder what heels to bring.
