Hell-raising novelist tells all

[desperance]

It's half-five, which means it's time to crack open a bottle of wine and sit down to an hour or two of intensive writing-time.

I was just downstairs in pursuit of the party of the first part, and it struck me - right there, with my corkscrew in my hand - that I really didn't want to do either part of this, but most particularly that one. It's not the writing, it's the wine. What I really want to do is make a pot of white tea and sit in my chair and read a book.

Y'know? I think I might do that. Just for a bit.