It’s taken me almost three months to add a further chapter to the rewrite of Khamsin – rather tragic, when I share that it’s beginning was written almost a year ago.
But it’s completed at last – an exploration of culture shock to bridge a chasm between two classic expressions of genre.
This one’s for anyone who’s tried to secure creative time against the demands of home, family and work. It’s for everyone who clings to a dream that ‘one day’ they will return to their chosen art – and it’s for everyone who’s woken up and gone ‘fuck it’ and dug their paintbrush out of the attic anyway.
My average word-count is worse than piss-poor.
But my imagination is awake and firing once more; images tumble, plot-lines weave, conversations develop. All I lack is time.
Learning how to write again is painful and an absolute pleasure… and I know that the more I persevere, the easier it will become.
The new chapter can be found here.