The numbers thus far

Lawks. I've finished editing/redrafting/revising/rewriting (however you like to look at it; I think editing is probably closest) the first three of four parts to "River of the World", and thus far I have cut 27,304 words out of 110,001. Which, your arithmetical minds will tell you, is damn' near a quarter. To be precise, it's 24.8%.

Sheesh. Either it was deeply seriously flabby before, or I have been hacking away good sweet flesh just to get the pagecount down, and the residue will be bone-bare and unlovely. Who can tell?

I still have the longest section to go, another 80,000 words, more or less, and I expect to find fewer to cut. Indeed, so many have gone already, I've almost lost my incisive impetus: as though I've done the tough-love thing, and can give the little darling some leeway now. Tut. Discipline endures. See discipline endure...

The third eye. Lid.

So there we were, me at desk and Barry sprawled indolently across both keyboard and manuscript, so that there was absolutely nothing I could do but scratch him under the chin there, just where he adores it; and when he's best purringly pleased with himself and with me his nictating membrane shows itself as he sheathes his eyes, and I was just watching that and thinking that I've been using the word for years but have no actual idea what 'nictating' means, when it struck me with the force of a steam-hammer: actually, it's just a typo. In Barry's case at least, it's a dictating membrane. It means "scratch me under the chin there, dolt." And I do.

[Actually I just looked it up, and it means winking or blinking, which is a little dull; but for added excitement, it can be spelled with an extra syllable. Nictitating. Did ever any word look more like a typo?]

(no subject)

Further to recent discussions of small hurts doing major damage (and yes, the graze on my shoulder is still kind of weird, and as it happens weeping as I speak, but I do think it's getting better, thanks. Slowly. I've noticed this, that now I'm older minor cuts & abrasions take longer to mend):

892: Sigurd I of Orkney. Sigurd the Mighty conquered much of northern Scotland, which brought him into conflict with Maelbrigte of Moray. Sigurd defeated Maelbrigte in 892 and strapped his decapitated head to his saddle as a sign of triumph. As he rode, however, Maelbrigte's tooth rubbed against Sigurd's leg causing a wound which turned septic and Sigurd died of the poison.

Isn't that fabulous? Found in Wikipedia's List of Unusual Deaths, which is kind of joyful all round.

And half my relatives live in Orkney...