black eye – fluffy

On train. First of about four I’ll be on today. Allergies giving me gyp – eyes watering, unable to breathe deeply enough, it feels like.
I revised another section of ‘person-hair’ yesterday, threading in a few new scenes and working out where the dialogue should go.
I’d get bored if I had to write the same novel over and over again. I admit it – I have the attention-span of a moth on crack. I can’t listen to the same song – or even album – over and over again (with very few exceptions!)
So when I’m planning a novel, the boredom sets in and I start working out ways I can make the experience of writing it as different as possible to the others.
Otherwise, I just wouldn’t bother.
(Later) yeah, it took four trains and a soaky bath, but I made it to work. In between, I smoothed another couple of sections of ‘person-hair’. It’s starting to look good. Better still, it’s starting to *feel* pretty good.
A couple of the characters are starting to explode off the page, developing character-facets I hadn’t consciously dreamed of!
The plot’s starting to hang together a little better, too. There’s less holes than there were twenty-four hours back.
Oh, and my left eye, when I caught sight of it in the bathroom mirror, is well bloodshot, the result of a spot of everly enthusiastic breath-play during the early hours of sunday morning!

now, why not read the novel that started it all? 1919 (inside)

Guaranteed – absolutely NO traces of horse DNA anywhere in this novel. And that’s the truth – or my name’s not David Cameron.


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