Strangely bereft

I've just e mailed the first draft of my fourth book to my agent. Friends and family greet the news with comments like: 'That must feel so great! What are you doing to celebrate?

Absolutely nothing is the honest truth, because all I feel at these moments is a rather odd sense of loss.

For several months now, these characters have been with me for just about every waking moment. Their story has become another life for me, that I've lived in parallel with my own and now that it's told, I find them slipping away from me, getting fainter by the day, already little more than ghosts.

I miss them. I've learned to love them these past few months: Solvay, Mark and Dana (yes, she's back) and without their constant company I find myself strangely bereft. I imagine I'll feel like this when my son leaves home. 

The truth is, writing a novel never feels like hard work for me. It's the most enormous fun. The research and planning can be tough, although I rather enjoy it, and the editing process can be (and usually is) absolute torture, but the first draft is a pure joy. This one especially so. I've loved writing this book. And now the fun's over. 

My sister and I are planning the official launch of Blood Harvest, due out in just over two months. As the book is set in my home county of Lancashire, and based on the real life story of when my sister and her family built a big new house on the moors by an old church, we've decided the launch will be in the north. This does mean inviting people I haven't seen in twenty years. Scary thought. If they look old, does that mean I do too? Are they going to come armed with endless embarrassing stories? Will there be photographs? Maybe it's not such a good idea.  Too late to back out, though, my sister's  bought a new frock.

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