This is me.
Figuratively speaking, of course. I’m not crazy enough to jump off a cliff – looking at you, Bella Swan.
What is it with young women named Swan/n and plummeting off cliffs, anyway? Bella Swan does it. Elizabeth Swann does it. All right, it was more accidental in her case, but really, if you’re feeling faint, must you stand so close to the edge?
Do people named Swan(n) have natural urges to do swan dives?
Readers’ replies appreciated, especially if they’re named Swan(n).
The Inksteyne name, I am happy to report, does not come with cliff-diving tendencies, at least so far as actual cliffs are concerned. I can live without the feeling that my entrails are about to be squeezed out through my nose by the invisible hand of the sea.
Rather, I intend to dive off a cliff of blank pages into a sea of ink. (Let us hope I don’t get sliced to ribbons by paper cuts on the way down.)
Which is to say, tomorrow I begin my “first” draft in earnest. To finish something novel-length by the end of the year, I need to write about 6,000 words each week. That’s about 25 handwritten double-spaced A4 pages.
Can I write that many thousands of words in a day? Will my story plan hold up? Will I still have the use of my left hand by nightfall? Only time will tell…
…and your correspondent, who will report back within the week, even if she has to turn right-handed to do it.
Until then, dear reader, I remain
yours on the left,
Sinistra Inksteyne 