The memory of an elephant
On Centre Court

Inner Editors and Inner Critics

Sometimes I think that the road to good intentions like blogging regularly is paved (or rather, not paved) by something fairly hellish. Some small devil, it must be, expert in constructing quicksands of laundry, cooking, phone-calls, tense nervous headaches of waiting to hear what my editor thinks of the latest version of the new novel, and, of course, loud music from the half-term children in the sitting room below.

And now it's gone eleven, and the washing machine's just finished and needs dealing with, and I've still got stuff to prepare for a seminar at Goldsmiths. Never mind the mega film deal, what I really need is Mrs Tiggywinkle. So rather than not post at all, I thought I'd provide a link to a really interesting online discussion I took part in, about Inner Editors and Inner Critics. It was in a private forum, but it's now been edited and made public here.

Of course as I post, my own personal Inner Critic's looking over my shoulder and telling me that it's not really that difficult to combine all these things and I should count my blessings instead of whingeing or giving up, because I'm just being feeble and should Pull My Socks Up...