Saturday 11th October 2008 (pp4060-71)

I would like to make it clear that the poem is not meant to be a good poem. It's meant to be silly, like a nursery rhyme, but also awkward and pretentious, like the protagonist of the book. In fact, a lot of the writing can be defended in this way. He is supposed to come across as callow and his writing should not be polished or it would be less authentic, even if it might have been more readable that way.

And then I started on this day the snooker story. It was perhaps the Grand Prix around this time, the Snooker Grand Prix that is, and that might have influenced this. I began to write it when I was sleeping on the sofa. The story is autobiographical. The snooker player struggles with his relationship with his wife, sleeps on the sofa and must decide whether snooker is more important than his relationship, as I had to choose between spending time with my girlfriend or writing, a constant self-enforced problem throughout this whole project.

Friday 10th October 2008 (pp4049-59)

Attempts here to visualise the island that I have been spending so much time on. One would think this would be a key early part of the development but my imagination is a timid and volatile thing.

Thursday 9th October 2008 (p4068)

Last night began with a poem I remember writing late at night then continued for pages, so perhaps it was an excessively late night up, perhaps I was savouring the early morning hours on my own like I used to do when I was a teenager. Perhaps it was the night when I had a cup of tea late and couldn't sleep and tried to learn Icelandic.

Wednesday 8th October 2008 (pp2037-47)

I remember writing this poem/song in the flat late at night when my girlfriend was in bed. I was often sleeping on the sofa at this time and I enjoyed it, that privacy and time to write, freedom. I can't remember the arguments though. Yes I can. There were some vicious fights. She threw a vintage camera at me. I silently poured tea on something of hers as I left the room.

The song is about the decay of the body, sudden fear that teeth are going to fall out after a life of no dental work and just general hopelessness.

Tuesday 7th October 2008 (pp4027-36)

I have thoughts to the effect of maybe one day I'll give the manuscript of this novel to an agent and they will want to represent the novel as it is, that even though it was the first thing I wrote it maybe had something.

Monday 6th October 2008 (pp2022-6)

It seems like quite a quiet time emotionally here. I don't sense much pain between the lines. Did we have quiet times? Emotionally? Perhaps I was finding effective escape in the writing and managed to forget everything else as I did it.

Sunday 5th October 2008 (pp4016-21)

I can't quite remember the feeling of doing all this writing in that flat, where I must surely have done it all. It would have been either in the brown armchair or the red sofa. After she has gone to bed? I should have written the time.