Modus Operandi …

Or Odius Moperandi, as my Great Uncle Quentin used to say whilst throwing liberal bucketfuls of Flash over the kitchen floor…

Sorry, it must be the heat. Not used to this sort of weather in Blighty.

Anyway, I digress. The question is, ‘How do you write?’.

I don’t mean how as such; I mean, I know you use a laptop or an iPad or something similar (a sheet of paper and a pen? No, really? Is your name Philip Pullman? He of the twisted theology…? Hang on, I’m not going down that route…)

No, I mean ‘How do you write?’

Do you sit for three immobile, disciplined hours, churning it out, or are you like me? One paragraph and I’m up, walking around, talking to myself, scaring the dog or maybe boiling the kettle. (On a bad day I could even be boiling the dog and scaring the kettle).

I have a bad case of restless writer syndrome. I’ve just made that up but I’ve got it big time, for sure.

I prod the keyboard, coax a little dialogue from my characters and then retreat to leave them to it. Am I expecting them to carry on the conversation while I’m away? Who knows? Maybe I’m hoping they’ll sort the plot out for me in my absence.

No chance. When I return, mug in hand and scalded dog in tow, the last words I committed to paper are still there. Followed by a great deal of white space.

And so I write a little more. And then repeat. And so on.

A painful way to write a book? Well it probably is for the dog, granted, but I can’t do it any other way.

Do I need professional help?

Answers on a very small piece of paper to:-

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