[...] I could explain my process. I made a document called CONTENTS with a long list from which I would make the final selections. They were ordered chronologically. (By the year of their fictional release, not the order in which I wrote them.) Some of them were just a name with no film attached. I liked looking at the names in different fonts of varying authority. I liked the page that said CONTENTS so much that I added to the document some of my writing about the films I had selected. I put them in the correct order, with suitable fonts. I printed it out. I did no further work that day. The printing felt like enough. I had achieved something I had, on paper, the bulk of my manuscript. Now theoretically I could carry it with me, look at it on the bus, maybe edit it with a red pen in the staff room at work; inspired, I might take bathroom breaks and pull a folded page out of the inside of my shirt and add some notes. I could take it anywhere now, rather than wait until I got home to my computer to work.

But once I'd printed it out, I couldn't imagine leaving the house without it, and didn't for weeks, during which I did no work on the pages. None. And also, because I'd printed the document, I couldn't work on it on the computer, because then the printout would be wasted, and I'd be carrying an expired version, useless. I had to be carrying the latest version, and I was, as long as I didn't change it. So while having the manuscript in my bag meant that I could edit it on my journey to work, it also meant that I would not. If it is in my bag it is safe, as long as I don't take it out and attempt to improve or finish it. After a while I tried carrying my laptop around with me, so that I could work anywhere. The laptop fit in my bag, but nothing else would. i couldn't take lunch or another book or a notebook with me. The weight of the unfinished book was literal and metaphorical. I pictured the horror and relief of manuscripts lost in two films: at sea in The Second Draft (JOhn Loose, 1999) and floating in the breeze in a parking lot in Wonder Boys (Curtis Hanson, 2000). I imagined my laptop dropping off the top level of a multi-storey car park and smashing into pieces with some satisfaction.