November.

The last seventeen days have passed uneventfully, apart from the fact that I've written a 50,000 word novel for Nanowrimo, spent one weekend in Bristol and attended the most wonderful conference ever, spent another weekend the weekend in the Lake District, have taken some beautiful shots and had lots of extremely random conversations with strangers on trains and in my local supermarket. I also met the First Minister, but that was on the second-last day of October, and therefore doesn't count.

I'm a bit confused actually. I don't know how to feel. My dad used to tell me that you write best when have to do so when extremely busy, and I've finished two novels since starting my first 'real' post-University full-time job (heck, I've been working a year, but this is the only one that is a respectable job in any sense of the word).

I feel... like I can only learn from experience. There is no point writing slowly, really. I know I can hit targets and I know I can write. But I've still got so much to LEARN - how to make my characters more vivid, how to increase my vocabulary and use of language, how to make my thoughts interesting, how to make my worlds stand out more and not seem so cliched... I've got so much to learn. But, like everything, you learn 'on the job' as it were, so I suppose that's why I'm here...