Empty Nest Syndrome

So... My baby is gone. Final draft sent away.





The place seems strangely empty,



It's little bed lies cold,



No longer the clacking keyboard,



My coffee cup gathers mould.





Still, it's a relief. I'll be honest with you. All those nights obsessing over that particular comma, days spent wondering does that word quite fit?



I can breathe again.


Don't get me wrong, I'm in a position now I would have killled people to get to a two or three years ago. Kill people. Honest. But it's tough isn't it, doing all the editing. I've gone over it so many times that now I don't even like it!

So (he whispered, checking over both shoulders)

So...

I've started a new one.

And lets be really, brutally honest here:

Conception is fun.

And I'm enjoying this, the planning, the excitment, the first fumbled kisses, the -

Did you hear that?

No?

I thought I heard keys rattling. Anyway, I'm loving those electric moments: a character is formed, a thread untangled and then weaved back into place. Phone numbers exchanged and -

I definitly heard something.

Does my baby have a key?

Can it really be back so soon?

Nah - thats stupid, it'll be out for hours. We have the place all to ourselves -

Oh God!

It's not what it looks like, it means nothing to me. It was a stupid one off thing.

I was drunk! I was bored! I was lonely!

Please, no! Disco kettle! Disco kettle where are you?

You fiend, put it's plug back in!

Put down that novelty eraser!

Nooooooooooooooooooo

(Is this the end for our intrepid hero? Can he escape the novelty eraser? Will all his hard work be rubbed out? Can disco kettle find a way around it's, quite literal, powerless state?

Tune in next time to find out.)