A rare occurrence: a sleeping boy, a flat white, a favourite bookshop. It was too good an opportunity to miss. I didn't have anything to write on so I bought a notebook and borrowed a pen. Words just tumbled out onto the pages. It felt so good. At most, it was twenty minutes but the buzz has lasted all day. And I keep thinking of this Hemingway quote:
"Write hard and clear about what hurts."
That's the way I have to write now; the only way I'll get anything onto the page. After all, you've got to do what you love, even if you only get to do a little bit, here and there.