Its been a month since I handed in my novel and you'd think I'd be chilling out, enjoying the freedom of all this spare time.
To be honest, the plans to have no plans never really came to anything. The moment I put away my laptop I zoomed off to Portugal and France with work. And now we're moving house - with three travel sick pets in tow - not exactly taking it easy.
But still, I find myself itching to start the next novel. Life without a my 'imaginary friends' feels directionless. One dimensional.
Maybe its because I know that, career wise, I don't want to be doing what I'm doing now for the rest of my life - I want to be sitting at my kitchen table in my pajamas, writing novels with my dog at my feet. It's as if I can't sit still until I get there!
Meanwhile, the feedback from my agent on novel 1 has been positive and out of the 5 top flight editors he sent 3 sample chapters too - 3 have now requested the full manuscript! Whoopeeee! Another reason to have ants in my pants.