Dull Thursday

It has been a strange, quiet, rather lonely day. The rain has barely stopped and the news is nothing but waves, tides, floodwaters, stories about drains, and the death of a great jazz man going out in a blaze of colour against the seascapes, washed out piers and shopping centres.

Meanwhile, the Chipster writes on. Sitting in my small room with 400 pages of manuscript at my side, a laptop on my knees, I gaze vaguely between the two of them, tying so desperately not to touch what’s written unless I can see a huge improvement.

I’ve also finished writing a piece for my second stint over at Ms. Baroque’s blog. It’s a piece of self-indulgence in which a successful stripper explains what he’s discovered about writing a novel. I’ll post it in the morning.

The rain doesn't stop. My proofreading goes on…