There is one thing that dominates my writing life, and that is a sense of panic. It is not a panic about selling books, or being heard, or writers block or anything like that. It is a panic about running out of time. I am forever panicked that I will run out of time. Life is busy. There is stuff to do.  There is always something I could, or should be doing. Anyway, forget about all that, that’s another story, and this blog post is about all the stories I want to write, all the stories I need to write, but might not ever get the time to. So here goes. If I die and you knew me well, perhaps you could pick these poor souls up for me?

Working On; The Tree Of Rebels is lucky because I am working on it right now. Spewing out chapter after chapter for my girls to read and comment on. Lissie Turner is almost fourteen and lives in a perfect world, no war, no hunger, no crime, no disease. But the human race only achieved this after endless wars that saw them pushed to the brink of extinction. Question is, is this world really so perfect? A young adult novel of the dystopia genre, and a massive challenge for me. Getting great feedback from said daughters and their friends on Wattpad. They spur me on. At the moment it is a fleshless skeleton of a book. I don’t feel entirely connected to the characters yet, but this will come. This one is going to be told.

This Is The Day; The sequel to The Boy With The Thorn In His Side, another lucky book because it is written and only needs one more edit, but I can’t bear to jump back into editing yet…but if I die…well, it is done.

The Mess of Us; sequel to The Mess Of Me, started this but trailed off due to massive amount of editing that other books needed. Several chapters written and I know exactly what will happen. Still love these characters. Will jump back into this when Tree of Rebels is written….

Story with no name number One; written when I was nineteen, lost most of it moving house but still have about thirty chapters. Adam and Jude. Love story. Adam, working class lad, kind hearted, put upon, idealistic, close to his scatty mother who had an affair with his uncle and tore the family apart. Older brother a bully in jail. Younger brother heading same way. Loves and adores his intelligent and complex girlfriend Jude. Lives in a bedsit in rough area. Too nice for all this. World will eat him up. Bad people will infect and ruin him. Jude. Pretty but never believed in it. Mother, up own arse, daughter never enough for her. Secret bulimic. Gets attacked and raped in an alley one night leaving Adams bed-sit. He was too drunk to walk her to bus. What happens next? Police can’t find rapist. Serial rapist. Adam wants revenge. Links up with brothers dodgy friend. Good boy turns bad? What does Jude want? I’ll finish you one day…

Story with no name number Two; written when I was 28…Three women live side by side in old terraced houses. Student Katie, innocent, sheltered, anxious, needs to be free, find herself, get used? Single mother Abbie, private, judged, noisy students on one side, nosy old woman on the other. Lizzie, elderly, alone, unless sister on end of phone…passed by, ignored, unseen now she is old. Motherhood. Loss. Aching. Loneliness. I know these characters but the story/plot has not unfolded for me yet…

Story with no name number Three; written when I was 16/17…Bill Robinson, sixteen, alcoholic, loves to sing. A rough housing estate torn apart by turf war and reprisals. Bill won’t say sorry. Single dad raising him and his younger sister. Bill, sullen, angry at the world, killing himself daily, when he sings he is someone else, free and bright and innocent. Still got this somewhere…written in biro in a notepad…The girl he loves doesn’t know he loves her, he is so shut up and cold and angry…She turns to an older man…

Kezzy Granger’s Guide To Human Nature; in and out with this one, washes over me and then goes away, sometimes so strong I have to go and write down…not sure how old she is, but she is an observer…her mum is a big character coming to me slowly…used by men, retreats inside her home and body, eating to fill a void, sends Kezzy out to live life for her…no bond? Just confusion. Won’t leave the house. Kezzy watches the world from her window. Lady across the street dead three weeks in her house and no one knew but the cat. Feels the urge to reach out to strangers. They could be anyone? Alarmed by the fact once someone passes by you never ever see them again. Could connect and link up? Stay in touch? Even if weird? …Kezzy lies. All the time. To make life interesting. To get people to stay. To make things happen. What will happen? It is coming.

Thanks. Feel better now.

It’s actually less of a panic now, to get them all out, set them up, speak of them. I can do it. One by one. Just don’t let any more of them come.