My partner has said on more than one occasion that she would hate to be inside my head. Frankly, I don’t blame her.

I find it incredibly difficult to properly relax. I used to think that this was normal, that everyone felt this way, but apparently, this is not true. Go figure.

Take this time right now, the fallow period, if you will. My precious gem of a book baby, Anti-Virus, is with my much-valued ARC readers. I am giving them time to read it, at their own pace. Because we all have lives and commitments, the summer is basically theirs. There isn’t a great deal for me to do for the next couple of months.

My brain is making me feel guilty. For not doing something. God knows, I have no idea what that nebulous something is, but it’s poking at me very regularly for not ‘working’. As if a demanding day job isn’t enough.

‘Do more.’

‘DO MORE.’

‘DO MORE.’

‘DO MORE.’

I have a small list of things I will need/would like to do before publishing, but it’s small and manageable and…

I DON’T NEED TO DO THEM NOW!

As you can imagine, that only pacifies my brain (which is behaving like a demanding two year old to be fair) for a short while.

I do have a draft of a fantasy novel that is the first in a trilogy (this is how I have always envisaged it). So I’ve printed it out and am about half way through reading it. I’m quite impressed by past Freya. She had some good plot and characterisation going on. It’s definitely got legs. Will it be a trilogy? Do I have the ability to commit to that?

Time will tell.

‘Pssst… time’s running out! Better get on with it NOW!‘

Oh, good grief…