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I’ve nearly finished my first full edit! And I’ve identified a handful of readers from around the world to read it and give me feedback. I’m getting excited now.

Lounging by the pool in Vietnam, I recognise reluctantly that my first draft novel needs a bit of editing! Almost two years in the writing, the stretch of time shines occasionally through the text. Changes of voice and mood are sometimes too sudden. I have to work on continuity.

I have completed my first draft! I’m travelling for work in Vietnam and China in a few weeks, so I resolve to set my novel aside and leave it for a while, think about other things. I’ll take my four hundred page manuscript with me on my travels and read it through for the first time.

I have re-read sections I wrote before my dad died and there are so many strange echoes in the reality of my experiences over the last eight months reflected in what I have written in my novel. So strange, mysterious.

I don’t know what’s happening but the words are flowing again!

My dad’s condition worsened and once the words palliative care were uttered, it became clear that there would be no cure. My dad died on the 2nd. And I haven’t been able to write at all. Even though I feel peace at my dad’s passing, something within me is blocked. I need to leave the novel for now.

My dad is really ill and it’s becoming increasingly clear that he’s not going to get any better. I’ve spent most of the month with him in England. It’s been a really difficult time. I also thought that I’d have lots of time to do some writing while here because sitting with my dad at home shouldn’t be enervating, but I totally underestimated how emotionally draining this time would be. So… no writing for me.

I have abandoned my ambition to write a novel in a year. The more I force myself to write, the less the prose flows. Best to just go with the flow – quite literally. Some days I write three thousand words, many none. And that’s okay. This is not a time-bound exercise. I’ll just give myself whatever time it needs.

I know the themes but I don’t know the story. How to capture it all in a narrative? Ideas begin to emerge and I have no idea why one, over others, is taking a hold but it is. A story is spilling out.

Went to the Byron Writers’ Festival. Such an injection of inspiration! People, speakers and visitors alike, eager to explore, curious, filled with a kind of wonderment for life, a quest for meaning.

And some people just like me – not sure, not ready, not confident – and yet still willing to try their hand at penning a novel.

The unspoken challenge is too great! I will write a novel!