Sunday, 3 February 2008


Right now, I am editing a piece of flash fiction at the request of an enthusiastic editor (ending too ambiguous - my calling card, I fear), discussing Pokemon cards with my seven year old (who is sporting a brand new gap in her smile after losing a tooth in the cinema yesterday), reading in stages the final chapters of Doctor Death by Jonathan Kellerman, writing (in my head) the second chapter of the new crime novel), listening out for the washing-machine to finish so I can go and hang up bedclothes. That's a writer's glamorous life for you.

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