Robert Louis Stevenson might have been writing from experience: for authors there is a time of calm introspection and civilised living; another of rampant imagination, primeval urges and letting the beast out. So far, I'm not sure which bit belongs to novel-writing and which to getting subscriptions. Probably we need to mix it up, so after a long session in the sanctum of my writing cabin I force myself out there to be amongst people and their stories. Otherwise writing becomes a form of therapy and how turgid would that be? Like listening to some bore drone on about last night's dream. I spent this morning in Attibassi, our favourite coffee shop and my 'public' office, and realised how lovely it is to properly engage with people I've nodded to for ages, never knowing their names. Who knows who'll pledge? But this process has already been enriching, for both Jekyll and Hyde.
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