...because I've had a lovely week getting to know the students in my new classes and spending time with my family and frankly I've little emotional energy left for my other family who are probably all standing around in their respective 11thC homes waiting for me to continue the story.
Which reminds me a British TV series I watched as a kid. The main character, a girl, had (I think) polio and couldn't walk and she was staying upstairs in a house opposite a lighthouse. She drew. And her drawings came to life. Something about the rocks and there was a boy and it was thrilling and terrifying and I wish i could remember the name of it. If anyone remembers it, let me know! The upshot of remembering this is the power of the creator which I have resting on my heart.
Anyway, unfortunately for me, the writer, this 'interruption' has happened at a painful part in the story (see previous post). I'm having such a good time with my students and my family and the new books which have arrived for review that I really don't want to go home (home to my writer self presently means Scotland, 11th C).
Thankfully, I have readers who accost me in the supermarket, in the playground, via email as well as (ahem) my contract with the publisher that I cannot delay the inevitable: to finish writing Birthright.