I’m a planner at heart. I like to reflect on the months, and sometimes, the years to come and what might be in store for them. I’ve always been like this; even as a child. Sometimes things go to plan, sometimes things don’t. Sometimes I can remember myself in the moment I’d envisaged and realise how wrong or right I got it, and it feels like occupying different selves all at once.

At the moment I’m thinking a lot about the summer. I’m thinking about what clothes the baby needs and how hot it’ll be and whether the roses will bloom well, or not, and how much I’ll miss going to Glastonbury. As the longest day arrives I will be putting the final hours into the book manuscript I’ve been working on over the past 18 months, and then I will be away. And right now all I can think about is the expanse of time after that. The months where I will be, for a short while, free of deadlines.

I’ve decided to use that time to read. Specifically, to read things that aren’t out yet. Once you get to a certain point of writing things people are generous enough to invite you to read their new book to see what you think of it. For the past couple of years I’ve had to reply with a hasty “I’m sorry, I’m at capacity. Best of luck with it though!” But the fact is our weird little industry is one that is at its best when we lift others up through its frequently isolated mires. I know what it’s like to go scavenging for blurbs, to feel drenched in gratitude when someone shares your work. It’s high time I did my bit in return.

So, an invitation: if you’re working on something that’s due to be published from July onwards, drop me a line. I’m going to clear the to-be-read pile for you.

Other good things this fortnight:...