Absorption

A few years ago, I wrote a book, living above a cafe in a rice field overlooking Mount Agung in Bali. It’s one of my desks in beautiful places. There is rarely a day that I don’t wish to go back to that level of absorption I felt in Sidemen, the depth of immersion in discovering the stories inside of me ready to pour out. Only occasionally speaking to other guests at the cafe, and the 8-hour time difference, helped enormously. I often ate the same meal, nasi campur, twice a day, a mix of goodies with tofu and rice. I drank vivid-coloured red watermelon and purple dragon-fruit juice. And gave up milk in coffee as it wasn’t so easily available. The book might never see the light of day unless I find an agent. Now having recovery time in the UK ahead, I could go back to fault-finding, aka my fourteenth edit. Editing is enjoyably satisfying. And it keeps my natural perfectionism and inner critic confined to words and punctuation, rather than anywhere else where I upset people instead. It's the dealing with the distractions that’s tricky.