Catching up, or falling behind, or something

Hmm. The Great Book Race seems to have faltered, if not failed altogether. Anyone out there still in the running?

For myself - well. As you know, Bob, I just had three weeks away from it all. Which means I have ten days left, and am going to miss my deadline, almost certainly: for lo, here is where I am:

 

51538 / 80000 words. 64.4% done!

No, I don't believe I can write a third of a novel in even a long week. These are yesterday's numbers, and the 1500 words I wrote yesterday were better than the none that I wrote the day before, and even so. They're only half what I actually need, day to day. I can't remember the last time I wrote 3K in a day, let alone ten consecutive days.

So, yeah. Slogging on, no longer expectant. Damn that Paris...

Apparently I have John Martin on the brain

Half my internets today are pointing at this extraordinary photo of the Milky Way as seen from the Himalaya.

Which is kind of ambushing me, because I can't look at it without thinking of John Martin. Which would be all very well, except that I don't actually like John Martin's work very much. Which is kind of heretical, as he is the Great Local Victorian Painter. (And his even madder brother set fire to York Minster, which is my favourite fact about the whole damn family.)