P.S.

I forgot to say, I'm feeling much better today.

As soon as people start worrying about me, I start worrying about them worrying about me. Seriously though, I'll be all right. I'm very volatile - can switch from utter despair to squeaky excitement within hours, so even when I'm in the depths of depression I know it won't last.

Last night I typed up and collated all the ideas I have for Novel III, and came up with a plan. Never mind all this trying-to-think-of-a-million-ways-of-making-money nonsense, it's doing my head in.

This summer I'll do a bit of creative writing, of various sorts, and in the autumn I'll put some serious effort into finding some IT-based freelance work - probably technical writing (documentation for IT systems, that kind of thing). Any time not spent tech writing will be focused on a new book. This will start with me writing some short stories, for various reasons - not least to experiment with style and form. Then I'll make a decision on what it's about and launch into Novel III, funding it with freelance stuff.

But I'll hold off on the difficult stuff for now until my head's a bit more sorted.

In the very short term, a few people have responded to my call for illustrators, and I already have two rather lovely pictures - one from my old friend Francis, and one from a new friend Lynda - to hang some words around. This is unlikely to make me any money, but it'll be fun.

I went out last night, to the theatre in Bradford. Well, it wasn't a theatre, it was a car park. I had a free press ticket and everything. I'm just writing a review for Bookarazzi (I'm learning the art of the blag (that's blag, not blog)) - I'll copy it here when it's done. But the performance, combined with listening to some brilliant music on my iPod on the way there and back (particularly Allegretto from Beethoven's Symphony no 7 - played VERY LOUD - and Hola Coma Estas by Andy Sheppard), perked me up considerably.

Hurrah for culture.


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