Don't panic

I cannot actually have lost the second half of my novel, no. One does not lose three hundred manuscript pages. I've just ... put it somewhere...?

See! There is it. It sits among the cabbages and peas. Or in fact among those totally-unrelated boxes, where I clearly, um, put it. Yes.

But see: second half! I have read and scribbled on the first half! Without much effect, I fear: mostly it's just been nitpicks rather than the fierce reconstructions I expected, tho' there has so far been one bit where I wrote "Write this!" in the margin, 'cos the scene referred to in a skimpy paragraph would've been much more interesting than the scene I'd actually written. Often the case: I do take a perverse pleasure in avoiding the obvious, but sometimes I fear I take it to extremes. Dramatic face to face encounters tend to carry much more emotional weight than a simple mention of them en passant. It's just, sometimes I'm not interested in the drama, y'know?

In other news, still not king. There might be a connection.

Sale!

...which I'm not allowed to mention. Damn.

But! First of the year! (Sheesh, what have I been doing, all these eight days...?)

Back to the read-through. Soon as I can work up the impertinence to cast Barry from my knee. He does have a perfect sense of bad timing: constantly privileges me just when I'm about ready to move. So I either have to sit here longer or else discourage him. Guess which way that works out?

Meanwhile, Mac has been sniffing jade-dust. You don't know what this means yet, not having read Dragon in Chains yet, but it's that time of the night: all cats run mad at six o'clock (can this be because all cats get fed around six o'clock?). Vrooom! says Mac. Hah, says Chaz. Jade, says Chaz. That's what it does...