As promised by pregnancy books and websites, the baby is
changing the way she moves. What were once random kicks are mow more
coordinated movements. She moves now like someone trying to fight their way out
of a jumper, which is both alarming and endearing. Her movements make her seem
ever more like a little human and I have taken to asking her what she is up to.
This development is making David even more impatient to meet her. If the roles
were reversed, I would find it hard not to be jealous of the time he spent with
her. It is hard for him that I have a constant physical dialogue with her, a
private knowledge that it is difficult to share with him.
For all that the medical aspects of giving birth might feel
far from private. Carrying a baby is a private enterprise. From the outside,
all may seem quiet and calm, while on the inside the baby is often dancing a
cancan with only me to feel her. I wonder if I will miss these private
sensations when she is born, but I suspect that the reality of her arrival
will eclipse any memory of this time.
Writing a book is a similarly private enterprise. Much of
the creative work that is involved in the writing of a book goes on unseen in
my head. This is particularly true of the stage I am at with the writing of A New World. As the plot and characters
emerge in my imagination, I am also driving to see family, or washing my hair,
or hoovering. As the weather improves,
just sitting in the garden is often very productive for the book. This is one
reason why I find it hard to describe the process of writing, although there is
a product eventually the process of creating it sometimes looks very much like
doing nothing.
Although I enjoy feeling the baby moving and a career that
involves sitting about thinking, these private enterprises are not meant to
stay private. The purpose of me writing books is to have them published and
sold. The purpose of me carrying a baby is for us to become parents. It will
not be long now, before the baby arrives. I hope that the book follows suit.
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