The problems that lead to more problems.

This is just a brief catch-up post, for anyone wondering where I have got to. The simplest answer is that I’ve been writing, which I hope to be able to share soon, plus the much anticipated critical read I’ve secured for my novel is going to take even longer. Apparently there were some problems, and someone was supposed to email me, and they were very sorry but it will be several more weeks, so that’s that.

On top of this I have been unwell, aside of some of the more usual suspects, I’ve had a horrible pain in my shoulder that’s been dragging on for weeks. I am booked in for an x-ray on Tuesday, to rule out anything sinister, as they tell me, but the pain and immobility is likely to go on for a few weeks more. The pain can be severe, and I am supposed to exercise it, but every time I do it flares up worse than ever, while the codine they gave me doesn’t touch it anymore. It is taking a toll on me, my health, and my writing, and on my poor family too, naturally. On top of this, being an intensely private person, I find it hard to talk about. Once you get into the habit of burying your difficulties under a rock, the act of digging it up again becomes a problem in itself. For your sake, dear reader, I hope you have no idea what I mean about this.

That’s as much as I will say on the topic but hopefully soon I will have some very good news to add here about another project I have on the back burner. In the meantime, you can check out how my latest short story is doing at where it’s been read almost 2400 times, at my last check, with 9/10 from 41 votes. For me, if the sun makes up its mind to come out today I might take my laptop out into the garden and get some vitamin D while I write, escaping reality in my own preferred way.

May the sun shine on you wherever you are.

Published by Jill London

Hi, I’m Jill, a writer and teacher living in the UK, usually behind a desk but sometimes on a sofa with a book or a film. I began writing at around age three, legibly by five, although I didn’t write any stories until I was older. Aged eleven, I began writing children’s fiction, mostly middle-grade fantasy and I’m still doing it to this day. I have had stories published online and in My Weekly magazine. The best bit about writing is when ideas pop into your head (from the writing fairy presumably?) and everything starts clipping together like a jigsaw puzzle. The worst bit? When you start to get the feeling there's a piece missing from the box...

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