High anxiety

When the writing gets tough - or stuck - or non-existent ...

Plus ...

And I'm ready to head up the mountain. But first, an overnight train journey with the added drama of putting the bike on the train, (paperwork in Vietnamese, draining the fuel, making sure my beauty is not damaged by the loaders) then a 35 kilometre ride from sea level to 1700 metres on winding twisting roads shared by maniacal bike riders and death defying truck driver and the occasional goat and small groups of minority people laden down with produce, walking to market.

This is not just any mountain, but the mountain where I wrote A Small Death in the Great Glen and A  Double Death on the Black Isle. Aim - two thousand words a day to crack the first draft. So, fingers crossed, boots on, backpack packed, camera ready, books (the new John Banville awaits, Alan de Botton on philosophy, and my trusty I Ching) Also some Fortnum&Mason's English breakfast tea, plus a real teapot and I am off. Off to beautiful Sa Pa. Off to my "Triggering Town". Off to a view of the mountain from the room where I write (the outline of which is on the blog heading above)

To write a first draft, to really truly immerse yourself in the place, the characters, and to let the story unfold, needs space for total immersion and little or no distractions. And the funny thing is, if I surround myself with people speaking in another language (Vietnamese or Mong or Yao) it is like birdsong rising and falling in the background. Never distracting, always good company, always fascinating, the rhythm of the town and the purity of air works - has worked for me in the past I should say. Because with that Muse of mine (definitely a woman, in a dress, in a Scottish voice saying "who do you think you are?") must be obeyed or at least placated, and she likes Sa Pa.

And so do I

Aa' the best.