Have been working like the clappers these last few days. From Monday we'll be away for 2 weeks and so have been cashing in on a deluge of work offers and taking it all on. A script about a child without a face (factual) and an endless flow of comedy character analyses. My fingers feel ready to drop off. Seinfeld? What do you want to know?
Finished in time to take daughter & goddaughter on the Go Ape climb this afteroon, rudely interrupted by massive thunderstorm breaking through the heatwave. We were called down out of the trees (brimming with metal wires!)and had to go back to base camp. We hadn't a clue it was coming, set off in light clothes and smothered in suncream. The drive back home along the M3 was like something out of one of those American freaky weather shows, oohing and ahing at the lightning and dodging the floods and wailing fire engines.
Feel a bit of a fraud for saying The End last time. It is, for that draft, but still not in a state for anyone to read. Am also wondering about the Other Novel now. In the way that as soon as one job's over another takes its place? I really should have finished that one first. I know that now. And shouldn't have been swayed by one editor telling me why she wouldn't be buying it. Had 2 seriously senior agents waiting for its completion. WILL finish it, though, whilst embarking on the dreaded marketing plan in September.
Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.