I am not one of these people, most of us apparently, who think I have a book in me. I think I have fourteen. But, given that I am 33 and still smoking, I am aware I had better get on with it.
The girl who I will be working for in Edinburgh said that for as long as she can remember, (which means aged 13, at school), all I ever wanted to be was a writer.
That changed. The fabulous thing about the civil service for me was that it showed me that actually, there were loads of things I wanted to do.
But underneath the writing niggled. It doesn't matter what else I am doing, I feel like I should be writing. Yet, whenever I am writing I can't get away from the million other things I should be doing.
Not any more baby. Now the writing comes first. Sure, I'll work around it. But everything else is a means to writing not a means to not writing.
Watch out, the gypsy is getting naked and intending to revel in the dirt of life. I have rather a Persil view of dirt by the way, and think that's a brilliant advertising campaign. Dirt is good.