desperance

I have caught, I think, an everlasting cold: chilly on the inside. I have been drawing up strategies for survival. Trouble is, apart from "Sell the house", they all require other parties to invest large amounts of money in me; which, as they seem unwilling to do that for the one thing I'm known to be good at, makes for an unconvincing list.

So that's dispiriting, and I distract myself by writing a new book.

Just a quickie: it's a sort of children's/YA urban fantasy, and I'm shooting at 60,000 words. The secret hitherto-undisclosed plan was to do that in a month: "Thirty days, two thousand words a day, easy!"

Yeah, right. I started March 1st, and I've averaged not much more than half that. Still, after nine days, that's still a fair chunk of text; so I thought I'd go public quick, before it all goes sour on me. Again. Or before I get entirely stuck, for lo, I have no notion in the world what this book is actually about. Except that it's about boys who run away. Everything I write is about boys who run away, apparently; if they're not on the run to start with, they run off at the end. Perhaps I'm trying to tell me something.

Anyway: