In the year 2014, I’m the single parent of a teenager who has decided to spend November writing a novel at her ironing board. Why, you ask?

Firstly, I have to find some use for it; it cost £40. Secondly, if I am going to tie myself to a computer for more than the 7.5 hours which earning a living demands, I can at least have a change of scenery. Placing my laptop on the ironing board allows me to stand up while typing, and not only that – I can alternate typing with staring at the sky and glaring at the neighbours in a sinister fashion, my face creepily illuminated by the glow of the screen.

Oh sorry, you meant why am I writing a novel? Well, how else will I while away those abstemious, post-divorce winter evenings spent waiting, on-call to drive my daughter home? (becoming the mother of a teenager has brutally cut short my burgeoning career as an alcoholic).

Not only that, but writing a novel has been my secret dream for as long as I can remember; if I don’t do it now – then when will I ever do it?

I’m starting this blog at the same time so that I can post pictures of the sky, complain about the neighbours and connect with other people who may be doing some, all, or even none of the above.

I would love to hear your thoughts…

Reply to Rae

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