Source of inspiration

If you had to compile a list of my (numerous) virtues patience, sadly, wouldn't be on top of the list. It wouldn't be in the top ten, the top half, it wouldn't even make the list if you managed to find over one hundred good personality traits. No, I really am not a patient type. Which makes this whole aspiring writer business extra frustrating 'cause there is a lot of waiting around. *deep breath*

Right now I am waiting on the fast track first chapter and the NWS mss - coincidentally (or not really) the same book. I submitted to the fast track 25 days ago, the NWS mss was posted just a week ago. Last year I was spoiled with a really fast reading and an email within 5 days to tell me it was going for a second opinion. As history hasn't repeated itself OBVIOUSLY the book is deeply flawed (does being a big attention seeking drama queen count as a virtue?).

What I should be doing with this waiting time is beginning Big Edit 2 (I hashtagged that then realised my mistake. Twitter addict? Moi?) otherwise known as My First R&R. *panics* Tomorrow I need to sit down and slowly, carefully, with full attention, read the R&R email properly. Make notes. Plan out the changes I need to make. Make them. Sounds easy doesn't it? *panics more*

Summer Fling is set in Cornwall, the first scene (at the moment at least) taking place in the garden of a small bungalow overlooking the sea. Last week I was given a painting that used to hang in my grandparents' house, a picture of their Welsh cottage. Even when I was the only child with divorced parents in my school, unable to afford school uniform, humiliatingly on (inedible) free school meals, I knew I was richer than all my classmates because every Easter, Whit week, summer I went to Nefyn, to climb mountains, scramble up cliffs, rock pool. roam free on the beach. It's the most special place in the world. Sadly, many landslips later, the bungalow is no more and I don't know if I can bear to visit Nefyn ever again.

Looking at the picture, newly hung on the chimney breast, I realised I had recreated our bungalow, View Point, in my story. Not faithfully, there was no terrace, no herb pots and, by the end, no fence - which made taking a small toddler there a lively experience I can tell you. The inside was smaller and pretty basic not the cosy home of my book. Nefyn is in North Wales, not Cornwall.  But the house I saw in my mind's eye as I wrote that first scene was the house I loved so much. And until we hung that picture I had no idea.