TRUST

Apologies for neglecting you for the past couple of weeks. Fact is, I am deeply involved in writing a new novel and i find it hard to write and blog at the same time (I know some writers manage it and I truly admire their output). The new book is called TRUST and, like my others, it is about a family who don't behave very well. I am only drafting at the moment but it is getting stronger and stronger. Here's the first paragraph: The old man is standing beside the window, looking out. He isn’t tall, he looks as though he has never been tall, but his hunched shoulders make him even smaller than he might be. He is thin, but it is obvious that he hasn’t always been so thin, because his tweed jacket and viyella shirt hang off him at least two sizes too large. His fine silver hair is spread as generously as possible across his scalp, almost the same hue as the greying skin that droops in folds towards his crumpled collar. Anybody standing near to him, studying him, might come to the conclusion that once he was a fine looking man. Now he is hardly a man at all, more like a shell that has been emptied of its inner substance, of what once made it alive.