It had been quite a few years since I had written a novel. That first experience was a very mixed one in itself - yes, I guess I had a kind of love-hate relationship with 'Sixth Beatle' as I took it to its published birth. Some days I was thrilled that I was obviously writing this Century's most important novel (although not many people have realised this yet, however!), other times I concluded that I'd be better off just going and colouring something in.

One day a friend who plays in a famous orchestra, classically trained of course, asked me why I thought I would be able to write an accomplished novel on my first attempt. 'Do you think any famous music composer wrote a world class piece on their first go?' he asked, rather grumpily if you ask me. 'They poured over their craft for years. Yet you think you can just pick up a keyboard and compose a prose masterpiece just like that!'

Yep, I considered myself well and truly told off. So before I would set out on my second novel I realised that I needed to practice a lot. Just like my musician friend practices tirelessly every day, ensuring not only that he doesn't get fired by the orchestra, when he performs he is usually quite good.

I had a great idea to therefore write a collection of short stories, each one designed to develop my creative powers and writing style, more like a work-out really. Like going to the gym for a writer - working on that kind of six-pack creative idea that was hidden in there somewhere underneath a few unwanted pounds of belly fat.

I needed to train hard - get in shape. I even watched some YouTube videos on keeping motivated. But they're so easy to fall asleep to, aren't they? Everyone knows that.

My first short story was to be called 'Gavin & The Bodysnatchers', about a guy who has a failed joke shop in a declined old town in Lancashire UK. It was supposed to be c10K words. Anyway, the thing is, I realised I was rubbish at editing when I glanced at my word-count and realised my so-called 'short-story' was tipping past the 100K words mark. Damn it! How could that have happened?

I didn't fancy deleting 90K words though. What a waste of an afternoon! So I finally decided to write a few more words to complete the story and call it - not a short-story but an actual , wait for it - novel. Yes, an actual novel, I'm not kidding! Not only that, but I never had to stress over that notoriously difficult second novel syndrome. This particular novel had just pretty much turned up, all by itself really, just because I am a crap editor.

Anyway, best to keep that secret to ourselves. We're all friends on here, after all. But now I think I should start a blog or write a non-fiction book on how to write a novel without really thinking about it too much. I think I'd be onto a winner with that one. What do you reckon?