Two Bears, one teacup.

For the first time in years I have finished all the work I have to do. Well, not quite, but there is nothing that I can move forward with until I hear back from publishers. I have a manuscript with one publisher, two proposals for new books with other publishers, am waiting for guidance on cover art, but everything else is done. I cannot honestly remember the last time I was in this position and the first thing that seems to have happened is that I went to sleep, and couldn’t wake up.

The over-all feeling isn’t one of panic. That was what I used to suffer years ago. Fear that I would never again get asked to do any work. This time what I feel is tremendous relief. Time to play. I have managed to drag myself from the depths of dreaming and out for walks and in to doodling with watercolours. The first thing to be done is to play with bears. For months a sketch made while doodling, chatting on the phone has hung above my head.

Now it has become a small painting.

 There is a joy to be found in working like this. Not having to think about a book, layout, design, editors, marketing. Just painting mindless nonsense for the pleasure of moving some coloured water around on a piece of paper.

 There are more doodles above my head. A fox tea party. And a bear who has patiently sat and watched me painting is rather pleased to have found himself in a sketch in my sketchbook. I have always thought he looked as if he were playing piano, but had somehow mislaid it. So perhaps I will paint him one, though I feel a polar bear would be more inclined towards a harpsichord.

So, I wait, to hear about foxes and lost words and trees and numbers and dragons. And in the meantime I will walk and paint and write and think and sit and watch cloud shadows move over land and sea and the wind blow through the dog’s coat, and the flowers come and go. Soon there will be meadowsweet.

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