I’m getting so little sleep just now. This funfair they’ve imposed on the town I live in goes on until eleven each night and the best I can do is to read in bed from about nine, so I’m tired by about half-ten, quarter-to-eleven and crash as soon as their hellish cacophony subsidies.

Then up again at four to start on ‘dystopian’ once more.

Like most writers, I’m a vampire. open your mouth in front of me, say something I haven’t heard before and I’ll have it.

I’m always recording. Novel turns of phrase, even good war stories; all grist-for-the-mill, I’m afraid.

Julian Cope wrote in ‘Head on’ that when someone told him a good idea, they had six months to use it and after that it was in the public domain.

I read that and thought, “brilliant idea. I’m having that”.

We all have dozens of ideas every day. If you tell me a good one and you’re not bringing it to term, I will. And I don’t use all of mine either, so it’s reciprocal.

Of course, you might not recognise your idea once I’ve run electricity, water, and gas through it. Such is life.

Another seventeen hundred words this morning. Generally, by day five, I’d be forcing out about two thousand, twenty-five hundred words each morning. What’s slowing me down is, I believe, writing the whole thing backwards and the fact my mfc and mmc don’t have a common language.

I can’t just fall back on dialogue to move the plot along.

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