I thought this week would be easy, but it's hard. Monster Belt is throwing up so many things about my childhood, things mum's told me about her parents and their life, her life and it's all falling into this book and it's wrapped up in the Yorkshire moors which can be bleak beyond desolate. And that's my childhood too. I remember how cold it can be. Chillingly, bone achingly cold.
It makes you want to reach out to people in the past, ones I never knew (I never knew my grandparents) but I can't. It's a different world. And as I'm writing, I'm wondering where this novel, in fact, any of my novels fit.
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