There comes a time in every book where the book is almost finished and somehow or other progress seems to halt. Yesterday emails flew back and forth between Tessa, who is the editor and publisher, James and myself concerning the text and small changes to words. Some I felt passionately about, like the boat being called a 'paper boat' rather than a 'little boat'. Such small things, but they mean a great deal sometimes. Now the text is almost fixed.
And still I cannot sit down in my studio and paint. Is it that I don't want to let go? I am keen to move on to the next book which is one I wrote myself, to spend time tidying my house and my website, and to write a new text, but today I have walked dogs, washed up and made stock from pheasant carcasses ( I seem to me moving towards the slow food movement here, but the house smell glorious and the birds, that in life were so beautiful on the table were so tasty). I have learned how to pluck and draw pheasants and now want to draw and paint them. And I have let time slip through my fingers and days go by.
So, off to the studio and hoping to work late tonight.