Few emotions match the relief felt by a writer when their first draft comes back with 'fairly light' edits. Other people's approval is lovely, for one thing; but it's also good to know that the next stage, while naturally involving a fair amount of work, will be a matter of corrections rather than wholesale reconstructions.

So this is where we are: I have to go through the manuscript, either agreeing with or rejecting the editor's suggestions. Then, once I've been through the seven stages of writer's grief (she was right all along – I just didn't want to accept it), it goes to a copy editor, who will find all the mistakes and repetitions and idiocies and repetitions, and will say things like 'are you sure that's the word you mean?', and 'you've used that word six times in four pages' and 'why does this sentence have 187 words?' So then I'll go through it again, making all the amendments suggested (you don't argue with copy editors), and then it'll go to a prof reader, who will notice that I can't spell 'proofreader' and things like that. And then there's cover design and internal text design and so on.

What I'm trying to say is: we're not ignoring you, the book is being gradually perfected, and all good things come to those who wait. It's on the Unbound conveyor belt – as with a lot of things publishy, it's a slow and steady vehicle. Publication is slated for August next year – about fifteen months after I submitted the first draft, which is about the same as with Why Do Birds Suddenly Disappear?, as it happens.

Talking of which, I'm appearing at Wimbledon Bookfest next Saturday, in an evening of music and words entitled 'And The Bird Called'. I'll be reading from Why Do Birds...?, and the superb Jigsaw Players will be performing nature-related music by Sibelius and Messiaen and Poulenc and many more. It promises to be a fun evening, and it would be lovely to see you there. You can book tickets here.

Thanks, as always, for your patience and support. I'll try to update more often as we go through the editing process.