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Roadkill Cake

And why it's okay to take time out.

I don't take much time off. To get 5 books out in 18 months, have another couple getting towards submission, run a consultancy and look after a family doesn't leave much time over. The fact is, like so mamy writers (because, frankly, there is an Unbelievable pay-time connundrum in this game) I fit writing in around things.

 I squeeze writing blogs into sitting in the car at the school gates. While my child canters around on a pony I clear critiques for my writing group. Considering I've two lots of publishers' edits underway at the moment, a book launch (and Mancunicon!) 7 weeks away, and a reading event to run in 4 weeks, I'm even busier than usual.

Yesterday, though, a helpful thing happened. Half a page into my review of the previous day's edits my computer decided to shut down (note - this will not be helpful if it then refuses to start up again...). At which point I decided the writing gods were telling me to take a day off, and I listened.

So, what did I do with my precious time? I made a hedgehog cake for my daughter's 11th birthday. It wasn't an especially good cake. In fact, my loving big brother informed me it was a roadkilled hedgehog cake. And its eyes were a tad demonic.

Nonetheless, it was a fun cake. I also blew up and decorated light-up butterfly balloons (honestly, there are some bizarre minds in kid's party companies). I wrapped pressies, had a delivery of another yummy cake and tea with my aunt who I don't catch up with enough. I drank more fizzy wine than I should on a weeknight.

Today, apart from this blog, I'm not doing much writing. I'm meeting someone for coffee - a writer, as it happens. I'm going to the shops.

It's all to the good. Writing is so consuming, so obsessive and time-draining, we all need some time to recharge. At which point I nudge all my writing friends and ask what they're planning to do this weekend and challenge them to top a roadkill cake.