It is a constant challenge to find time to dedicate to a project that is abstracted from your ‘job’ commitments, relationships and civil responsibilities. A first novel is a scary and illusive thing to pursue. There is nothing to show for it whilst it is being created and no one (including you) really knows whether its total crap or not. Its just a document on my Macbook. A blip on the ether. And yet it represents hours and hours of iteration, reiteration, drafts and redrafts. It represents energy, emotion, tears and sweat.
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In February 2016 I visited Sri Lanka for 4 weeks or so with my Mother. It was a high point in a period of roughly four months in which I travelled, read novels and soaked up the sun. I had little motivation for each day other than simply not thinking too hard. I handed in my PhD in late November 2015 and needed that chunk of time to drift and let my brain and body recuperate. I see it as an enormously fortunate occurrence that 2 of the 4 weeks we spent in Sri Lanka were anchored at Villa de Zoysa on the south-western coast. There are two layers to this providence