Read the penultimate chapter out at writing group the other night. It went down well and am now getting that lovely draughty feeling of freedom just around the corner. There are still 2 male characters to attend to, pages of random notes to check, a final wind-up chapter to write plus the Outtakes file to go through (I always keep cut text in separate file, makes it easier to cull if I know I can double-check later). No news from agent.
After all that flurry of nearly getting a publisher last year, I now have 3 or 4 proposals written up, some with characters, others with plots, some with both. At the moment am leaning towards the one which will be set in the chi chi part of London I'm living in at the moment. For the first time I'll be going for several different viewpoints. At least one character will be as broke as I am with hints of the poorest author in the world living next door to the wealthiest in disguise somewhere. Not authors obviously, some other randomly insane profession. Twisted back, as I do think success has to be a more stressful life in many ways than bumbling along in anonymous peace. Not that she's there anyway. Quite a few of the houses in our terrace are property portfolios and empty for a lot of the time. Two flats in this house have been bought but left empty for over 6 months now. It's fun being here in many ways but not having any neighbours to talk to is a big disadvantage. However, I can NOT complain, the security guard is very friendly and we're only a 15 minute unrushour drive from all our old friends. We also have the sweetest new friend here this summer:
She flies down first thing in the morning now which is a wonderful feeling, having a bird flying towards you from the trees. Sometimes when I'm working on the balcony she sits around literally at my feet basking in the sunshine. She fluffs her feathers up, spreads her wings, opens her beak and looks to the sun with one eye. This is (thanks Google, I thought she was sick) called 'sunning'. She also sneezes, gathers food for her babies and, earlier this week, brought one of her chicks with her. Flying, obviously, but still fluffy and squeaky. She picked up the feed and shoved it in its mouth, like they do. She's quite happy to stroll into the flat which we have to stop in case she panics - or poo's.
Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.