Wish You Were Here.

I met Richard for a pint and an orange juice - I had the pint. He handed back the hard copy of my MS with effusive apologies for the fact it now looks distinctly aged, the result of an accident with a mug of cocoa. I am pleased with the sepia effect; it makes my work look as though it has been typed on parchment.

I have since installed all his corrections onto my original and, I am pleased to say, while doing so spotted one or two typos that had escaped his forensic eye.

Overall, his comments were confined to correcting my crap spelling and abuse of language - to lay and to lie being verbs I constantly muddle, but only because Richard is continually picking people up on their misuse, and I am now so confused I invariably lay where I should lie and lie where I should lay. Life would be so much easier as a chicken because I could always claim I was laying when I was lying or lying when I was laying.


We still have a problem over the definition of the book. Even he is stumped as how to categorise it. I think I will stick with black humour.

Over the past weeks, as mentioned elsewhere, I have been attempting to write all the bits and pieces necessary to submit to an agent. Give me a brief to sell the benefits of nuclear war to pacifists and I would find it easier.

Right on cue Nicola Morgan, self-confessed crabbit and fount of all knowledge regarding the publishing world, posts on the topic of covering - or query if in the US - letters.

I am now so thoroughly exercised by the weight of responsibility bearing down on this simple missive, I will, in all probability, end up by sending them a post card wishing they were here.

A small plug for a blog I really enjoy, nothing to do with writing, but if you have any interest in flora and fauna, especially the former, you will be astounded by the quality of image and the erudition of Kingsdowner.