To completely repurpose T. S. Eliot’s famous line, ‘April is the cruellest month’, August for me is generally the quietest. School work is over for the Big Holiday, workshop activity is very low and I tend to spend a lot of time cycling with friends along the canal or sitting contemplating the sea from favourite look-outs on the east coast of Yorkshire. This year it’s been slightly different; I’ve been waiting for the edits and suggestions re my latest collection from my publisher, and although not particularly nervous about it, am bracing myself for a flurry of intense brain-work before the month is out. Also, I’ve been getting advance notice of events I might be hosting for the wonderful Ilkley Literature Festival this October. I obviously can’t give the game away as to who I may be interviewing about their books, you’ll hear soon enough, but they have enough variety, from gardener to famous actor [who has always been a heroine of mine] to be rather thrilling.
And in other good news funding has been found for me to work in my five favourite Leeds primary schools in the next school year.
It all feels pretty marvellous to be honest. Who knew that a late-blooming writing career could last so long and give me such fulfilment and pleasure. I am truly blest.
