When I saw the registrar at the tail end of week 7, he said I hadn’t yet seen the full benefit of having had this procedure.  It’s fair to say that so far, I agree with him.  It is getting better, but I wouldn’t say it’s better than pre-operation yet.

Week 8: I start this week both pleased at my progress, and frustrated with the speed of it.  I think some of it is from my hospital appointment: this procedure was kind of sprung on me, and I was completely unprepared for the aftermath.  So, it seems, was the registrar.

My left knee’s beginning to complain from having had a higher workload: it keeps cracking and grinding.  At the moment, it can stay like that – I’m not sure I want to have all this again unless it really starts complaining.

A heavier week at work, with a lot more walking around, leaves me absolutely exhausted.  On top of that, my right knee starts to click and crack, particularly when I’m trying to drive.  It properly pops sometimes.  It doesn’t hurt all that much, but it can be uncomfortable.

When I have my review with the Occupational Health nurse, she says that in terms of impact on the body and recovery time, my operation was much more like a cruciate ligament repair than a simple arthroscopy.  She was also quite unimpressed with my experience at my 6-week appointment last week and urged me to complain if I felt things weren’t up to scratch.

It’s an odd one where I have confidence in the surgeon who actually did the work and the physio who’s looking after me.  It’s just the rest of his team who seem a bit, well, half-arsed.

Week 9: I have another physio session, so I ask her about the cracking and clicking.  She says that it’s my patella tracking … which means it’s not yet staying where it’s supposed to.  As it’s happening mostly when I’m tired and at the end of the day, I shouldn’t worry too much, but I should keep an eye on it.  She’s generally pleased with my progress, though, and I get another couple of exercises to add to the list.  Joy.

When I Google patella tracking, I see that the only real way to stop it is to do exercises – which are, actually, the ones I have – and that the only other thing is to do them consistently over a long period of time.  I won’t see improvement quickly.  It’s hard not to feel disappointed or frustrated that this is going to be a long road …

On the Saturday, we have a friend’s wedding.  I start the day worrying at how I’ll cope with all the standing and walking around, not being able to have my leg elevated … By the end of the night, I’m feeling sufficiently good enough to attempt a bit of dancing!  OK, I did use the walking pole a lot, and I did struggle going up and down stairs, but I was surprised that I didn’t even need paracetamol.

Sunday morning, I feel tired and my knee’s a bit stiff, but it isn’t swollen or sore.  Monday morning, however, and boy do I feel it!

By the end of each day at work, I’m very tired and achy, and I struggle to find the time and space to get all my exercises done (another frustration).  Driving can still be hard work, too.  It’s difficult not be even more peed off when Dave keeps wanting to go for a ride on his bike, and I’m seeing all my friends post updates on their motorcycling adventures.

I’m also a bit concerned that my left knee is cracking and clicking more and more.  True, it’s probably worked hard these last 9 weeks, but when I do some of the exercises, it makes more noise than my right knee!  Oh well.  Suppose this means my right knee is actually getting better …

Week 5: Sunday, I decide to celebrate my increased mobility and endurance by cooking a simple meal from scratch.  That was a stupid idea.  I always underestimate how long it takes to chop vegetables!  I manage it, but I’m pretty much done for the rest of the day.

Throughout the week, though, I’m encouraged by my knee feeling stronger and lasting longer.  By Thursday, I’m comfortably without crutches at all.  Woo!  *happy dance, if I could do one*

Perhaps the most random achievement of the week is that as well as being off crutches, I can also get in and out of the car nearly normally now, too.  I should be safe to drive (assuming I was to begin with) but I think I might leave it a few days or so yet.

The swelling is dropping – the right knee is now around 1.5cm larger than the left – but I can see it go back up a bit if I do too much.  Still, even a swollen knee now is less than it would’ve been as a steady state ten days ago.  It’s much less misshapen, too, if still noticeable bigger and blobbier than my left.

That funny lump on the top of my knee cap, towards the outside, seems to be becoming more prominent when my knee’s bent: it feels solid, not giving under my fingertips, but equally, me prodding it doesn’t make it hurt or ache or anything.  The most annoying thing is that swelling is making the skin over my knee very tight when I try and bend it, but I’ve still got a good range of motion going on.

Week 6: I start this week by diving into some chores – three loads of washing, to be precise.  Add into that pottering around to make my own lunch, put dry clothes away, and … my knee copes OK.  OK, I did make sure that I rested well and used ice-packs in between, but I’m still encouraged.  Last week, this would’ve done me in.

What’s kind of odd is that as the swelling is going down, the lump on the top of my knee when I bend my leg is becoming more and more obvious.  It aches a little when I bend my leg, but doesn’t hurt lots.  This week it feels sort of squidgy: like gel, but under pressure if that makes sense.  What I find really odd is when my leg is straight, it’s as if this lump doesn’t exist.

I realise I should soon be having an appointment with the consultant who did the surgery, but I haven’t had a letter.  So, I decide to ring the hospital and ask.  Good job, as my appointment is a week on Thursday.  Bloody Royal Mail: second item of post that we know of that’s gone walkies in the last two months.  Just makes me wonder what else has got lost …

I go back to work on Tuesday, getting a lift with a colleague who lives around the corner.  Occupational Health give me a large footrest to keep my legs as straight as possible, and I’m officially ordered to stay on office duties.  By the end of the day, I’m a bit achy, stiff and swollen (despite using lots of disposable cold packs), and I’m exhausted mentally and physically.  But going splat on the sofa soon sorts me out.

Wednesday I have a half day as I have physio in the afternoon: my physio is really pleased with my progress, and shows me how to increase the intensity of one of my exercises.  No new ones, though.  I ask about the swelling.  She explains that it seems to be the body’s response to lateral release surgery (as everyone she’s seen who has had a lateral release had this swelling), and it will go away in time, even if it does look peculiar in the meantime!

By the end of Thursday, I’m tired and a little bit achy, but not especially swollen, so I cope with going out into town for a curry.  Though I’m ready for bed by 9.30pm!

Week 7: After 6 weeks of anti-inflammatories, my digestive system descends into all-out rebellion, so my GP recommends I stop taking them.  My knee is less swollen and inflamed once they’re out of my system: clearly, I’m just awkward.  So, my pain relief now is co-codamol before bed, and the odd paracetamol during the day if I’m aching, but mostly, I’m doing OK.  I’m even using ice packs less.

Midway through the week, I feel like I’m coping well enough with a day at work that I can risk driving in.  It’s odd how much conscious effort it took to remember to move my foot between the accelerator and brake!  Thankfully, my little Seat Arosa diesel is a very easy car to drive, and it doesn’t take long for me to get into it.

In theory, Thursday was my 6-week appointment with the consultant.  However, when I got there I was told the consultant wasn’t in.  Whether he was off ill or something, I’m not sure.  Instead, I saw one of the registrars, who merely asked in very general terms how I’d been, then said they should see me again in 3 months as it’s early days after my procedure.  He didn’t examine me, check my movement, or anything.  Bit bemused by that.  It all felt somewhat chaotic and disorganised, and frankly a waste of time.  I’m grateful that at least my physio is a bit more switched on!

Just like when you design and build a prototype, there will be things that work well, and things that don’t: the only way to find out is let people poke it and prod it, and see what happens.

I can guarantee that no matter how vigorous your revision process was (just like however stringent your engineering development was) there will be issues with the finished article.  Some may be big showstoppers, some may be small niggles, but they will be there.

This is where 8D comes in.  8D, or 8 Disciplines, is a very commonly used engineering problem solving structure.  It also comes in surprisingly handy when kicking your draft manuscript out for feedback.  I should clarify that I’ve used 8D as a framework here rather than a step-by-step guide, but the similarities outweigh the differences.  What scared me was that I did this without consciously setting out to.

1: Use a Team. Having fresh eyes look at your work is absolutely invaluable.  Whether you call on friends and family, or use a critique group, is up to you, but you need several independent people you trust to review your manuscript.  I told people that if they genuinely wanted to help me get this book published, then I needed them to tell me what they thought worked and what didn’t.  I told them I’d be more upset if they thought there was an issue and didn’t tell me, than if they pointed out areas I needed to improve.

An important note for the authors out there: while people are reading your book, step away from it.  Have time away from your plot and characters.  Leave it alone.  You need to see it afresh, too.

2: Describe the Problem(s). This is the trick.  You can’t correct what’s wrong unless you know what it is.  Ask your reviewers to be specific.  Few things are more annoying to me – both as an engineer and a writer – than being told that something isn’t right, but they don’t know what.  A crumb of something, however vague – a scene that doesn’t feel right, a character that doesn’t work – is more helpful.

For me, there are then three stages to this phase:

Classify feedback according to type.  There are spelling mistakes, grammatical errors and factual errors before we even consider writing, characterisation and plot itself.

Classify issues according to frequency of occurrence.  If the vast majority of people – who aren’t in contact with each other – pick up on the same thing, that’s a big red flag indicating a problem.  There may be something which only one person feels to be an issue.  I take the view that if someone has felt strongly enough to mention it, then I need to review the section with an open mind.  Sometimes I’ve conceded that if I listen to them, I can strengthen that part further.  Sometimes, I’ve had to admit that I can’t please everyone.

Classify errors by severity.  By severity, I mean the impact of the error on the novel as a whole.  Some may be a simple “find and replace” (low).  Some may require a rewrite and a rejigging of a sub-plot (medium).  Or it could be an error which jeopardises the credibility of the whole book (high).  Either way, you should have a feel for how much work each one needs.

3: Implement & Verify Short-Term Corrective Actions. This, for me, is tackling the easy wins and the fast fixes for the low-severity items.  That means any spelling or grammatical errors, and any easily fixed typos or factual errors such as using the wrong name for someone.  Also, these will give you a sense of progress as you can tick a lot off quite quickly!

4: Define & Verify Root Causes. Look at your medium and high severity items, and your “must-fixes” (high occurrence items).  What are the issues?  Why have people picked up on it?  For example, you may have a flashback scene where it isn’t immediately obvious you’re writing about a character’s past: if the information in this scene is required, why doesn’t your writing make it clear to the reader what’s happening?  If someone says the mid section of the book is weak, what makes it so?  Is it a slower story, or a flabby sub-plot that goes nowhere?  You might want to revisit the 5-Whys if you’re struggling: or just keep nagging your reviewers.

5: Verify Corrective Actions. So, you know why your readers picked up on an issue.  What do you need to do to resolve it?  Using our flashback example above, do you need to rewrite the section leading up to the flashback to make it clear the character is thinking of the past?  Or, if it’s a flabby sub-plot, is it actually necessary?  Do you need to delete that sub-plot entirely, or can you spice it up a bit more?

At this point, I tend to copy the sections concerned into a new document, and work on them separately.  This way I still have both old and new versions to compare, should I change my mind.  Sometimes, I’ve found I’ll do two or three different iterations of a section before all the points have been addressed and I’ve got something which works.

6: Implement Permanent Corrective Actions. Having settled on my corrective actions above, it’s time to incorporate them into the manuscript.  It’s always worth another read-through to check they work as a whole.

7: Prevent Recurrence. Depending on the extent of changes made, you could instigate another review loop to make sure you’ve captured them all and not introduced any new problems.  You might even want to make a note of a few things, should you ever want to write a book again (our old friend, Lessons Learned).  You could even think of ways to improve your own writing and reviewing process.

8: Congratulate Your Team. Make sure you thank everyone for their help and feedback: after all, you couldn’t have done this without them.  If you promised people beer or cake in return for their time, now’s the time to provide it.  Celebrate things gone right.  I’ve been tremendously encouraged by the fact that even when people have disagreed on things which need changing, they’ve all agreed on things I’ve done well.  If this happens to you, too, pat yourself on the back and tell yourself “well done”.  You deserve it.

Friday (day 21): Feeling surprisingly good today, despite the cold and rain.  I haven’t taken paracetamol for a few days now, but I’m still on the ibuprofen: getting a bit fed up of it, especially as I can feel my stomach is not enjoying the experience.

Manage my longest walk and my longest outing since the hen do, and feel energised by it, rather than shattered.  The fact that it was to McDonald’s doesn’t count!

Despite my worries, I can see that the physio exercises are beginning to have an effect: I can feel they are too.  I feel much more steady on my feet, and I haven’t had my knee threaten to give way for a few days.

Sunday (day 23): After managing going out for dinner last night, I also cope with an excursion for coffee and cake … using only one crutch!  Woo!  At long last, my thigh muscles can cope with lifting and bending my leg.  I still don’t have full movement, and walking is slow, but I’m the closest I’ve been to it since the operation.

Monday (day 24): Given yesterday’s success, we venture out to the shops, and I manage about 15 minutes of slowly wandering around (we did have a few items to get, so it wasn’t just random).  It does soon start to ache and swell, but the swelling is neither as much nor as fast as it was.  Overall, it is still slightly rugby-ball in shape, but it is, slowly, shrinking.  The bruising is still going, too; though I’m sure as one fades, another comes out!

Wednesday (day 26): Although my knee is feeling stronger, it’s feeling oddly stiff and achy today.  I have upped the repetitions on all bar one of my seven knee exercises though, so that could be part of it.  I’m still doing my exercises three times a day, and I can see and feel my muscles strengthening to the extent that if I’m pottering around the house for short distances, I don’t bother with a crutch at all.

I seem to have a quite solid lump of something above my kneecap where it meets my thigh, which is most prominent when I bend my leg.  I’m not sure what this is, but it wasn’t as obvious while my knee was so swollen.  The difference in circumference is now under or around 2cm most of the time.

Thursday (day 27): I go back to the doctor’s to ask about anti-inflammatories.  Although the ibuprofen has had some effect, it hasn’t really had a great impact, so the doctor prescribes me some naproxen instead.  He also gives me another week off work.  I’m not looking forward to telling my boss that – feel quite a prune, as initially I thought I’d be off two weeks at the most!  Still, I can’t argue with him: I still struggle to stand, walk or have my leg bent for more than about half an hour before it starts swelling.  True, the swelling is reducing, but it still happens.

At physio later, the physiotherapist is really pleased with my progress … the day of being without crutches is nigh!  YAAAAAAAAAAAY!  I also get another couple of exercises – but given the improvement I’ve seen, I’m enthusiastic about doing them rather than annoyed I’ve got more.

Got to admit, I’m going to be so glad when I’m back up to full strength.  I’m actually itching to get back on the Wii Fit!  I’ve put on 4lbs (2kg) in my month of limited mobility, despite trying not to stuff my face whenever I got bored or hungry.

By the way, if you’re going to see someone who’s sat on their bum unable to move much, ask them if they’d like chocolate or something else as a treat.  Not that I disliked having chocolate – I mean, I ate it and enjoyed it  – but there did come a point where I wished people brought things like healthy quick-cook meals (to help Dave out) or just flowers instead.   But then I felt mean for being ungrateful!

Here comes my first lesson learnt: if you’re going in for an arthroscopy, make sure you ask them in detail to explain ALL possible applicable surgical outcomes.  This may influence your decision to go ahead.  I have to admit that my knee was beginning to restrict me so much I probably wouldn’t have changed my mind, but it would’ve been nice to have been prepared for this.

Friday (day 14): Had my first physiotherapy appointment this morning.  Despite me hobbling in on crutches, the physiotherapist was really pleased with my progress, particularly considering how far I can bend my knee.

On measuring my knees, my right one is still 3.5cm larger in diameter than my left: not good.  The swelling must be kept below 3cm.  So I must ensure that I elevate my leg if it’s swollen, and keep using anti-inflammatories and ice packs.

I explained yesterday’s mishap, and she confirmed that my muscles are still weak.  So I have two more exercises to add to the five I was already doing, with orders to build up repetitions as they get easier.  I also got told in no uncertain terms not to stop using the crutches until I can do all the exercises easily.  Bah.

Monday (day 17): I decided I should probably see the doctor before making any call about going back to work.  I’d barely hobbled in and explained the score before she signed me off work for a further 10 days with orders to rest.  And stick with the crutches *sigh*.

I think I need to accept that I’ve had a lot done to my knee, and it isn’t going to get better overnight.  Patience is not my strong point!

I’m doing my best to combine rest, ice packs, and the exercises.  And to keep using the crutches.  It’s hard to overstate just how much I hate using crutches.  Prolonged standing, walking or bending makes my knee swell further, too.

I decided at the weekend to try using diclofenac instead of ibuprofen, to see if something stronger had more of an effect.  I’m not sure I can see any measurable difference in swelling reduction between the diclofenac and the ibuprofen.  In terms of pain, most of the time it doesn’t hurt at all (possibly because I’m taking the diclofenac) and I’m hardly taking paracetamol now.

Wednesday (day 19): It’s cold and raining.  Normally, this would be making my knee ache quite a lot.  It isn’t.  Yay!  I’m much more mobile, but still using the crutches to get up and downstairs.

Back on the ibuprofen today for anti-inflammation purposes.  I did a quick comparison of my knees, and I reckon my right one is about 2cm larger than my left at the moment.  It is starting to look a lot more knee-shaped.

That said, there is a funny shaped region of swelling above and to the outside of my knee, almost on my thigh, and it’s still a bit swollen diagonally opposite this (the old “rugby ball under the skin at an angle” thing).  If I prod this lump with my leg in front of me, relaxed, it wobbles all the way around my kneecap.  I’m not sure that’s a good thing, so I’d better stop it!  The odd thing is this swelling changes shape when I flex the muscles: this makes me think this must still be swelling within the joint, and / or the knee muscles are still weak.  Despite me sticking rigorously to my physio regime.

Getting really annoyed that I can actually see the difference in muscle size between my two legs now.  I’m going to have a left thigh like Schwarzenegger at this rate.

Anyway, here’s week two of my post-op diary:

Saturday (day 8): I can feel I’m improving every day, if still not as quickly as I would like given it’s now just over a week since the op.  I keep reminding myself I still have a week on my doctor’s note!  I can walk for short periods without crutches, although getting up and down stairs is still a bit slow.

I can bend my leg to about 90 degrees, although I still can’t do the leg lifts.  That frustrates me, but I can feel the muscles in there are still quite tender.  More bruising appears to be coming out around the knee and up my thigh, too.

Sunday (day 9): Last night was a friend’s hen do in Birmingham.  The barmen and staff were very considerate to poor old me as I was still on crutches and still needed to keep my leg mostly straight – but oh my word.  I emphatically do not recommend cocktails and crutches.  I think it’s a mercy Sambuca has anaesthetic properties!

Mostly, I’m very tired and a bit achy – but nowhere near as bad as I feared (hangover included – I stopped drinking alcohol at 7pm because I had no desire to damage myself!).  In fact, I feel like I can walk and stand much better, and more movement is beginning to return.  I do rely on the crutches when I get tired, though.

Monday (day 10): I saw the nurse to have my dressings and steristrips removed today.  The incisions – one either side of my kneecap, both about 5mm long – are healing very nicely indeed.  I’m not convinced they’ll even leave a scar.  I can’t explain how nice it is not to have huge plaster-type things stuck to my skin!

I’m pushing myself to walk as normally as possible, which obviously tires my knee out; sometimes it feels a little wobbly, but not enough to make me fall over.  I’ve switched from using the large and unwieldy crutches to a lighter single walking pole – easy enough to carry if I don’t need it, but quicker to get in the right place if I do.

I had my first bath in 11 days.  Heaven.  Although there are ways to wash when you can’t get dressings wet, it’s hard to feel properly clean.

Wednesday (day 12): I CAN DO THE LEG LIFTS!  Woo!  For the first time since the operation, I can do the leg lift exercises!  And I can lift my leg onto the sofa by myself!  Tremendously pleased.  For the first time, I start feeling like going back to work next week is actually feasible.  I can also bend my leg to about 60 – 70 degrees.  That feels tight, and I’m not sure if that’s due to my knee still being swollen, muscles not having been used for a while, or both.

I can walk nearly normally, if slowly, and getting in and out of a car is still a bit entertaining.  Most of the time, I don’t need a stick, although again I keep it with me, just in case.  Every now and again my knee feels a bit wobbly for a split second – usually when going up or downstairs.  I’m still taking the stairs one step at a time, though.

By the end of the day, my thigh muscles hurt more and feel stiffer than my knee ever did.  So I decide another soak in the bath is a good idea!

Thursday (day 13): Not happy.  We popped out for lunch, and while walking to the loos my knee gave way from under me without warning.  Thankfully I’d got the walking pole with me, otherwise I’d have been in a heap on the floor.  It immediately puffed back up again and refused to bend or move.  And the pain?  I was in tears with it.

Managed to get an appointment with my GP within an hour (who says the NHS is rubbish?).  After examining me, he said I’d jarred it but not done any damage, and the swelling was a reaction to that – rest, use ibuprofen and ice packs, but make sure to do the exercises to strengthen the muscles back up.  Essentially, it giving way is related to the fact the muscles are still weak.

Gutted.  Really, truly, gutted.  My knee and the muscles around it ache so much, and I’ve lost all the movement I gained during the week.

So, it’s been a week with some ups and a big down.  In theory, I’m back at work next week – but I’ll think about that then!

Or so I thought.

My injured knee developed a tendency to forecast rain and snow more accurately than the Met Office.  It began to dislike long periods of standing and walking.  And I couldn’t wear even small heels without it beginning to hurt and swell up.

Painkillers didn’t work.  Compressive bandages made it worse.  And it seemed to be happening more and more often.

After several months of this, Dave persuaded me to go to the GP, who referred me to a consultant.

After an X-ray and a consultation, the consultant thought I had torn the medial meniscus cartilage (one of the shock absorber cartilages between the leg bones), and sent me to have an MRI scan to confirm before sending me for an arthroscopy (keyhole knee surgery) to stitch it back together.  It’s a pretty common injury, and in fact two of my colleagues had had arthroscopies to successfully repair theirs.

However, the MRI showed my medial meniscus was fine, but my kneecap was rough and slightly higher than it should’ve been.  I was told they couldn’t guarantee an arthroscopy would help, but they could go and have a clean-up and a good look around if I wanted them to.

Given that my knee was restricting my activities and my footwear, and that I knew of three success stories (another friend had a successful arthroscopy to clean up the back of her kneecap and wash the joint out), I decided I had nothing to lose.  So I went ahead.

At my consultation in February, they told me the waiting list was 3 – 4 months.  So I was surprised to get a call early March asking me if I’d be OK for it the next week!  I didn’t have to think about it, as it meant I could hopefully be recovered in time to at least get a bit of motorbiking in this summer.

Anyway, I thought I’d share my mostly positive experiences so far:

Friday: I had the operation first thing in the morning, under a general anaesthetic.  And I ended up sleeping most of the rest of the day afterwards.  It turns out that once they got in there, my knee cap was worse than they thought, so they performed a lateral release to get it back in its groove.  It being out of position had begun to mess up the cartilage around it, so they sorted that out (chondroplasty).  I got to see some pictures of how out of position my knee cap was: turns out it was quite a lot.  No wonder it hurt.  The consultant was really pleased with how it had gone, though, and was confident that it had been the right thing to do and it should be better.  Yay.

They gave me a doctor’s note for two weeks off work.  Right now, that feels a bit optimistic!

It feels like someone has replaced the muscles and tendons above my knee with burning hot jelly when I try and move my leg at all.  On top of that, my knee wobbles and sways under me and wants to give way, even on crutches.

Surprisingly, though, I’m not as sore as I thought I would be.  I am, though, tired, thirsty and very hungry, thanks to starving for the anaesthetic.

Saturday (day 1): Still feel rather tired and vague, and very wobbly on my feet even with the crutches.  I need Dave’s help to go to the loo, to wash, to dress and everything (poor man).  Not in a massive amount of pain, unless I attempt the exercises I’ve been told to do; but even then, it doesn’t linger.

I can put my full weight on it, but I really don’t like walking or standing around for even a short time.

When I was discharged last night, I was given three different painkillers: paracetamol, ibuprofen and tramadol.  Decided to try the tramadol before attempting the exercises again, and all it did was make me woozy and itchy.  Really not nice.  Otherwise, I’m coping fine with ibuprofen, paracetamol and the occasional ice pack.

Decided to Google “lateral release” as I didn’t even know it was an operation you could do.  Scared the crap out of myself in the process!  Lesson learnt: never, ever, EVER Google anything medical ever again.  On the upside, I discovered I was already doing better than a lot of the people sharing their horror stories.  Well, good for me.  Not them.  Poor things.

Monday (day 3): I’m able to move about a bit more, but the muscles and tendons above my knee are still incredibly sore and there are still some movements I just cannot do.  I’m guessing with repositioning my knee cap they took quite a battering.  I can bend my leg to 90 degrees without many issues, though it aches after a while.  Still need the crutches though, especially going up and down stairs.

We have, however, managed to work out a system so that I can at least go to the loo by myself – hurrah!

Dave had to redo the bandage as it was slipping down my leg thanks to the swelling receding.  My knee is a very funny shape right now, almost like someone’s wedged a rugby ball under the skin at an angle.   I will be very glad when I can take all this wadding and bandaging off.  And even gladder when I can have a proper bath or shower again!

Wednesday (day 5): When doing my exercises last night, I decided to push a bit harder on the movements that I can’t do, as they’re beginning to come (yeah, I’m impatient).  When I tried bending my leg for the next exercise in the sequence, there was an almighty crack from above my knee and it HURT.  It brought tears to my eyes, and I worried I’d damaged myself.

This morning, though, it feels absolutely fine.  In fact, I can feel I’m getting better.  It barely even aches unless I’ve done my exercises.  Even then, it used to hurt more if I’d walked lots or it was cold and about to rain.  I’m still taking ibuprofen, but I’m hardly even taking paracetamol now.

I can walk a lot more confidently, but I’m sticking with the crutches for now for security’s sake.

Took the bandage off this morning to reveal the swelling has gone down further and it’s less misshapen.  I’m surprised at how little bruising there actually is.  I’ve only got two incisions hidden under dressings, one either side of my knee cap.  Sort of disappointed, as that is my most scarred knee, and I was looking forward to adding more to the collection!

Thursday (day 6): Yesterday’s optimism seems a long way away.  I ache a lot more this morning!  I got paranoid doing my exercises yesterday that I was going to hurt myself again (I would say it was an 8/10 on the pain scale).  I also stretched without thinking when I woke up, and now it feels like I tweaked my quadriceps (ah ha, Google can be useful).  I’ve also used an ice pack for the first time in a couple of days.

I am definitely walking around better though, and more normally – and I’m keeping my crutches with me more for reassurance than necessity.

The trouble is, the more I try to make myself walk around normally, the quicker I get tired (and boy, do I get tired easily at the moment!).  It does make me ache more, but in a “muscle fatigue” kind of way as opposed to “I’ve damaged myself” way.

I’ll post up week two when two weeks have elapsed!

Why should money be funnelled into saving art galleries or propping up theatres, and yet not given to Vulcan To The Sky to preserve Avro Vulcan XH558, arguably a beautiful aeroplane, a momentous engineering achievement and a tremendously valuable cultural and historical resource for the future?

Because society at large, and the media, seem to see only art as having any kind of value to humanity.

It’s generally ignored that engineering and manufacturing are inherently creative.  The media seem to assume that engineering and manufacturing do not speak to society, or of society.  It annoys me that if something isn’t deemed art, or culture, it’s instantly dismissed as worthless.

Plus, whenever a new vehicle is unveiled, it’s always the stylists  that get the glory.  Never the hundreds of engineers who’ve worked their backsides off for years to make that vision a reality.  To actually make the thing work.

To me, this is totally wrong.  Art and engineering are equally valuable to society, and should co-exist.  Who could deny that the Iron Bridge in Shropshire, as well as being an engineering marvel and the first of its kind, is in fact a beautiful structure?  For me, Antony Gormley’s Angel of The North blurs the line between art and engineering; the challenges involved in constructing such a huge statue from steel were immense.  Even the original Spen King Range Rover was displayed at the Louvre as an example of automotive art*.

Just as with art, engineering – creating things, making things with a purpose, to do a job, to improve people’s lives – expresses and explores aspects of our society.  In archaeology, not only do we learn about past civilizations through their art, we learn about them through their use of tools, how they worked their materials, how they made their weapons and their buildings.  We learn about them through their engineering.

This isn’t to hold engineering above art: far from it.  Both are equally valid.  I also don’t want to get into any kind of idealisation (or idolisation, come to that) of one over the other: both require skill, aptitude, and learning.  I was about to say that often people take up aspects of art (amateur dramatics, painting watercolours, sewing) as hobbies, but I know just as many people whose hobbies encompass engineering: tinkering with cars, Land Rovers or motorbikes, making models, flying model aeroplanes …

The key thing is that these are all outward expressions of something inside us.  I don’t think that us humans are ever satisfied if the results of our labours, be they at work or at play, are unseen or intangible.

It just annoys me that only arty things are deemed a valid way of expressing ourselves and our creativity.

[I freely admit that in the traditional sense, I’m about as arty as a smack in the face: I can’t draw, unless it involves a ruler; I can’t paint, not even walls; I can’t sculpt or make things out of clay; I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket; and although I’ve tried, I can’t play any musical instrument.  Although I can appreciate the skill in, say, a Monet, or a performance of a Shakespearean play, they don’t move me in the same way as hearing the distinctive howl of a Vulcan bomber's four Rolls-Royce Olympus engines.]

*The original 3-door Range Rover is, to me, one of the most wonderful marriages of form and function.  I do wish Land Rover would go back to this elegant simplicity from where they are with the current Range Rover: all the bling puts me in mind of lipstick and pearls on a pig, even though this shape Range Rover is hardly a pig.

I’VE FINISHED WRITING AND REVISING THE BOOK!

And it feels … er … like I haven’t.

I’ve been trying to finish writing Full Throttle for ages: as in, completing and refining the story, polishing my prose till it shines*, and so on.  But I’ve finally done it**.

When I thought about it last week, as the end loomed into view, it was simultaneously exciting and scary.  I thought I’d feel a tremendous sense of achievement; that I’d feel pleased, proud, happy, and satisfied with having produced a whole, coherent novel.

I don’t.  Instead, I feel like a big hole’s just opened up in my life.

I can understand why so many aspiring writers have drawers and files full of unfinished projects: sometimes it’s because the story isn’t right, and sometimes … well … finishing is a big deal.  It’s not just about the hours of work that have gone into it: we writers pour ourselves into our creations.  We can end up living and breathing our characters and our plots … until, one day, we have to say goodbye.

These characters first popped into my head in the summer of 1995.  Over sixteen years ago.  That’s over half my life.  I’ve known them for longer than most of my real life friends.  This isn’t just completing a novel, it’s drawing a huge part of my life to a close.  Admittedly, it was only four years ago that I decided to see if I could produce this novel after all, but still … it’s strange.  These characters are so familiar to me that I can’t quite grasp the fact that I’ve finished telling this part of their story.  It’s time for us all to move on.  (OK, I’m not ruling out any kind of sequel – but I don’t have any ideas for that … yet.)

I don’t feel like celebrating.  I don’t even feel like mourning.  I’m not sure how I do feel.  Lost, perhaps.  Adrift.  I no longer need to prise the laptop off my husband so I can squeeze in some writing whenever I can … and that feels weird.  No longer do I need to spend spare moments contemplating plot and narrative.  I wasn’t consciously aware of doing it … and now, all I know is I’m not any more.  And I miss it.

It feels incredibly odd.  Sort of like someone’s dumped the clutch in my brain, and it’s freewheeling aimlessly with nothing to drive forwards.

I do have my next project lined up – with a completely different storyline and characters – and last week, I couldn’t wait to get FT sorted so I could focus on the new one.  And … I can’t.  Not yet.

I know how to deal with having a book in progress.  I don’t know how to deal with a finished one.  But I think it’s time I learnt.

*No, that isn’t a euphemism.  Though it sounds like it should be.

**To those people who manage to write books and blog several times a week (and produce regular podcasts, in some cases), all while holding down full time jobs and / or bringing up several children … I am in total awe of you and how you sustain it for any length of time without descending into screaming insanity.  I try my best, but I struggle to find enough time to work, sleep, cook, eat, clean and write as it is!

In order to copy this method, you will need:

• A printed copy of your manuscript, in whichever format suits (I used 2 pages per sheet of A4, single sided).
• A fine-tipped red pen.
• Highlighter(s) of whatever colour(s) you prefer.
• A pack (or more) of coloured index tabs (4 colours is the norm per pack).
• A nice cup of tea is a bonus.

Before I began, I defined my colour code for my index tabs: I had four groups of characters I wanted to follow closely, and so each colour stood for a different group.  In theory, you could use as many colour codes as you liked, for whatever aspects of your novel you want to focus on.  To be honest, for me, four was plenty.

As I read through my printout, I asked myself a number of questions:

1. Is this required – does it add anything?
2. Is this in the right place, either in time or space?
3. Am I following the right character(s)?  Are they consistent throughout the book?  Am I head-hopping?
4. Does this scene do the right things?  Do I avoid info dumps?
5. Are there any gaps here?  Is there something I’ve missed out?

If one or more of these questions demanded an answer which involved me reworking something, the page in my print-out got an appropriately colour-coded index tab and a scribble in red pen by the margin explaining my particular area of concern.  The highlighter came in useful if a whole scene was involved which spanned several pages; that meant I could see which scenes I’d tagged, but I didn’t need to tag them more than once to track them.

As I moved through the manuscript, I also used the red pen to address any typos, other errors or minor wording changes I needed to address.  These, though, didn’t merit a coloured tab.

I then decided it was worth a second read-through, in case I’d missed anything.  And I had.  Nothing major, but there were a few things I picked up on, and questions I asked myself, which had escaped me the first time.  So more coloured tabs got added, and notes scribbled in margins.  I have to admit that I also changed my mind about a few things I’d thought needed amending first time round.  If I was at all uncertain, I left the tab in.

Finally, I went through and numbered every single index tab consecutively, starting from 1 at the beginning of the book.  I then wrote the number, and a description of what needed revising, in a notebook.  So, I had a list of what needed revising, colour coded by area, and organised chronologically throughout the book.

This was useful on a number of levels.  I had an overview of my entire manuscript.  I had a detailed list of revisions, and where they were required.  And, most importantly for me, I could actually quantify and track my progress in making the required revisions.

Nothing saps my motivation more than feeling like I’m facing a large, immeasurable and unquantifiable task.  Which in some ways, this book has resembled for far too long.

Knowing what gaps I needed to fill meant I could get to work on writing them; knowing what things I’d missed, or not explained well, meant I could get to work on clarifying them.  Knowing what scenes were around them, and where it slotted in the timeline, gave me my boundaries to work within.

I don’t know if this is unique to me, or if other writers do this, but I seem to have a split approach to writing.  There’s the pure joy of creating, of letting Bob the plot bunny* roam wide and free, of discovering the story and the characters and exploring it by the seat of the pants.  Then, there’s the task of taking the story and making it orderly, making it solid, and making it readable and coherent, by letting my OCD streak loose.

I’m definitely in the latter phase, but although it’s harder work, it’s somehow more satisfying.  A large part of that is being able to cross items off the list as having been completed; to know that much as I don’t feel like it sometimes, I am making progress towards getting this book finished.  That’s a scary, weird, and exciting thought.

Funnily, I’m finding I can keep reading fiction this time around, and if anything, I’m finding that helpful.  It’s hard to proofread fiction sometimes when I’m stuck in my work writing mode: engineering reports have very different requirements to fiction.  Aerospace customers don’t like surprise endings, and they certainly don’t like it if you obscure information or lead them astray with red herrings.  And readers of fiction don’t like it if you explain in great detail beforehand everything that’s going to happen in the book.  Work reports need everything spelled out; novels don’t, at least, not right at the beginning.

Once I’ve done this bit, I expect I’ll print it out and repeat the process again.  I’ll also put it out there for my faithful friends to read and comment on (particularly ones who read the first draft).  So there may be yet more revisions still to come.

And then, maybe, this book might be finished …

*As outed on Twitter.  I feel rather insane, but somehow I now can’t think of plot bunnies without thinking I have a specific one called Bob!