Sunday Night Insomnia 3: Reading and re-reading and re-reading and re-reading…

I’m in the final stages of preparing The City Between the Books and The Bridge People – two short(ish) stories that will be published jointly as an eBook in November (you can see the front cover in my previous post) – meaning that I’ve hit the most anxiety inducing stage: the final proofreads.

Over the next while I’ll be making sure that all the typos are picked up, there are no rouge elephants (as once appeared in a draft of a friend’s history book, and is still my favourite typo) and that it at least appears that I have some rudimentary understanding of the English language.

It’s not about content at the moment, it’s about finding the stupid mistakes. The ones that are honest typos, but which my mind insists that if a reader discovered them would mark me as an idiot to them.

Of course there will be some. At least one always gets through. Even writing that has had a dozen or more people scouring it to make sure it’s perfect will have the odd typo in it. It’s the way of things. They’re sneaky those typos, able to camouflage themselves amongst properly spelt words and correctly placed punctuation.

And that’s just the typos.

There’s always the risk when you’re doing the proofreads to second guess yourself, to start thinking that you should have written things a different way.

Sometimes, maybe, those thoughts are worthwhile. The second guess may actually be better. But most times – at a point when you’ve read it over and over, and others have too, and that sequence on page 17 was perfectly good all of those times before – it really is just anxiety and just needs to be sent to sit in a corner.

Yes, the next few weeks are going to be, well…yeah.

I’ll see you on the other side with a brand new something for you to read.

Sunday Night Insomnia 2: The Bathroom of Coolness

I am a not a summer person. I do not cope well with heat. So the past week has been spent in a bit of a semi-melted, exhausted grump. Not too great when you’re trying to get a book out of the door.

Tonight, therefore, has been the first night this week that I haven’t ended up writing in the bathroom – the only place in the house that was even vaguely cool and where my brain could string more than half a sentence together.

Sunday night insomnia

Well, I’ve managed to make a week without running away.

There’s still a while to go before blogging and maintaining the website becomes habitual. I have a vague memory of hearing a fact that it takes six weeks for people to settle into a new routine and for things to become normal, everyday habits. If the fact is true, and not something my mind is just conjuring up while I sit in the late-night dark writing this, then come 15 August this will be just a usual part of my day.

Of course, by then, I should (will hopefully) have published The Silver Mask and, once that’s published, there’s no running away. It will be out there, and I will have committed myself to going forward on whatever path it creates for me (most likely one that is very similar to my existing one, but with a blog).

I called this post ‘Sunday night insomnia’ as it is Sunday night and, as per normal, I’m still awake and a little restless.

Although I call this…pattern?…of staying up late into the night on a Sunday ‘insomnia’, I’m not sure it is true insomnia. Although people I’ve mentioned it to in the past have suggested that it’s down to anxieties over the working week starting in a matter of hours, I’m unconvinced. It happens regardless of whether I have work or not.

I suspect it has more to do with me being a night owl. During the week, I’m forced to wake earlier than I would, so, by late night, I’m tired enough to sleep. The weekend comes, and I find myself waking up as and when my body wishes. Come Sunday night, my sleep pattern has adjusted to what it would be naturally without the demands of a working week, and so I find myself sitting in the dark, restless and flitting between activities that can be done on my laptop but won’t cause me to become so absorbed that I’ll force myself to carry on with them until complete despite now being tired enough to sleep.