The letting go
There is a rhythm to my authorly life. There is the thrill of the new idea, the next book, the one which will write itself, which in its formation will give me unprecedented joy. Then comes the terror of the blank page, the empty document, that knot in the pit of my stomach, the question – what if this is the one that I simply cannot write? Then the slog, the focus and, if I’m lucky, the flow. … More The letting go