WHAT'S WRONG WITH SENIORS WRITING ABOUT SEX?

WILL I STILL BE HERE?

 As a magazine editor I was all too familiar with deadlines.

The monthly panic to finish an article, the frantic tracking down of an interviewee who'd wandered off before I'd obtained all the facts and figures, the photographs that had gone missing just before the final page design.

Now in my senior years deadlines have a different, more literal, meaning. I'm well aware that if I attempted an epic novel such as Wolf Hall, I might well fall off my perch before I'd completed the necessary research or written the first 100,000 words.

So, 70,000 to 90,000 words, characters as attractive and as flawed as Thomas Cromwell but with feet firmly planted in the modern world, a lot of conflict, a good sprinkling of humour and the odd sexual encounter to add spice. (What's wrong with seniors writing about sex? Comments invited.)

So, I've put away any thoughts of becoming another Hilary Mantel. In the epic words of my granddaughter Katie: 'The problem is, Nana, will you still be here?'