Last week I posted the following tweet: “That moment when you start writing and you can’t stop; when you turn off the car radio because the characters are talking in your head; when you take long walks just to spend time with them.”

For me, it summed up the magic of writing and was a joyous expression of my delight at experiencing it again. And what’s more, I hadn’t even realised it had gone away. Had I become too much of a technician? Had I been trying too hard? Disappearing up my own wotsit?

I’ve made my name (such as it is) as a writer of books that are more than just romance. A twist of mystery, a twist of suspense, a twist of the ghostly. Hard to fit into a genre box – and very hard to sell to an agent or a publisher. Believe me – I’ve been there, done that, got the proverbial T-shirt. There was a time when I considered “you write well, but…” would be my most appropriate epitaph.

The stars began to align back in October when I had a manuscript turned down by a publishing house because it was ‘too dark and emotionally intense’. However they made it very clear they’d love another submission from me if I came up with something more escapist and with a simpler pay off.

Seeing the proliferation of ‘heart warming’ stories on supermarket shelves made me step back and seriously consider the market for romance. Of course, it doesn’t take an awful lot more than common sense to see that life is pretty grim for a large number of people at the moment so they want a book to be a happy place to lose themselves. They want familiarity with their fiction: Heidi Swain’s Wynbridge series, Elaine Everest’s vintage Woolworths. In short – they want a comfort read.

But could I write one? Should I write one? After all, my readers expect something different and there are a significant number who buy my books for this reason, even if not enough to make a publisher bite off my hand. While I was mulling this over I chanced across Harper Collins’ Great British Write Off where they’re looking for thrillers and ‘beautiful love stories, particularly escapist settings.’ The deadline was the middle of January; perhaps I should give it a go.

So I started to make a few plans; an outline, some character sketches, a nice punchy opening. Still I prevaricated. In the meantime a friend who would dearly love to write ‘more complex’ (their words not mine) novels, was offered a three book deal for her chicklit. And then an agent who’d been reading my full manuscript came back with a no – but once again made it very clear they’d be happy to read more of my work – without the paranormal element.

On Wednesday morning my husband went away for a few days so I started to write. And write. And write. And live and breathe my characters inside my head in a way I’d almost forgotten. Long walks around the park and up the river. Then back home again to write some more. Researching on the hoof, taking it one or two scenes at a time. Letting the magic flow. 8,000 words of magic in just three days.

In fact, I’m itching to write another chapter now. So if you’ll excuse me…