A fan of productive procrastination (try saying that when you're drunk or, in my case, when you're sober) I spent far too long this morning making a spreadsheet of how many words per day of
Grim Glass Vein I would need to write if I want a complete draft by mid September. Not that I have any particular reason for picking September other than it's next month and I'd like to have edited drafts of both
Grim and
Ghosts by year end so that next year I can reconsider the whole search for an agent thing that I've been conveniently ignoring.
Then I spent the following hour looking at writing desks online and decided that this coming weekend I'd gut my office and rebuild it.
Now I need to construct another spreadsheet. Although actually writing some words might be a more fortuitous plan.
Spent yesterday at the new
Museum of Liverpool with the wee ones. Above is a rather rainy view from the second floor window and to the right is an iconic Liver Bird. We are rather fond of them in Liverpool and it's said if they ever fly away that Liverpool would fall into the sea. We're dooooooooomed. Or maybe not because they're all made of solid rather than beating things.
I guess I should write now or look at desk accessories...
Maybe I'll make a new spreadsheet.
