It looked like a jumble of words. And it was. It came out in uncontrolled sentences, paragraphs and pages. Written on the scraps of paper to hand when an idea came to mind. It got mixed with the rates bill, kids lunch orders and the odd crossword puzzle.

It got lost in various drawers and was left, abandoned, without an ending for almost a year.  One day I found Chapter 1 again, read it and cried. I carefully put it in a zip lock bag and went on a hunt for Chapter 1’s brother and sisters.

Laid on the dining room table it looked like it had felt in my head, unorganised but somehow organic. The chaos of the scraps of paper looked intentional, a bit like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle. Ah and yes the final piece of the puzzle is still missing.

So I set about typing it out on my computer, no editing for me ! Raw it was and raw it stays. Submitting this unborn love to an editor will make good fodder for another post and perhaps months of therapy.

I dont think you can control the chaos and the way it spills for the mind, I think this is an important lesson on writing your first book, control results in something that will not make you cry when you find the long lost Chapter 1.