Right now, I’m spending a lot of time circling a new novel, poking it with a whip every now and then, snatching my hand away before it can bite and jumping forward anytime it looks like it might slink away. But when you live somewhere like Edinburgh, there’s always something brilliant and booky going on that’s perfect for distracting yourself with. Ahem, if you let it. It’s all been good stuff though, promise.
First, I wrote a bookworm’s guide to Edinburgh and Glasgow for The List, then I showed a lovely Swedish editor for an airline magazine around some of my favourite literary places and if that wasn’t enough, it’s almost time for the Porty Book Fest – a great wee celebration of books at the seaside that I happen to be on the committee for. I’m particularly looking forward to chairing a chat with the fab Jenni Fagan, seeing some of my fellow New Writers Award recipients and hearing Isla Dewar. Ah, it’ll be ace – come and be distracted with me? I heard novels write themselves these days, anyway.
I wouldn’t see these ventures as distractions in that they are all immersions into the world of writing. Hopefully more creative fuels will burn brightly from such participations. Ta. Pete
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