Normal Service

It's been a week. What have I been doing with my time? Well, this damn novel takes up a lot of it, all to be done by midnight on the 30th. There have been trips back from Tooting Bec to report on of course, but nothing more than the spotting of new Christmas lights on Streatham High Street, and the Diwali lights switched off on Upper Tooting Road. But I'm working on that.

The novel rests uneasily on 33,600 words, about 3,000 words behind schedule. At least it was yesterday. Add today's quota and I'm 4,600 words behind. The goal is always running away.. . looking over its shoulder at you and laughing. Trying to keep up is hard, and if I do catch up I'll just want to bludgeon the fucker. So the blog has become a casualty.