Despite Donna Yates' diligent and very kind work, I still keep finding problems with my monster horror. I'm nearly there, though. A solid four days of work should get it to the point where I can upload it after clenching my teeth. I would continue editing until there was barely a paragraph left, if left to my own devices.
However, someone has very flatteringly asked me to paint a template for her blog. Now I know I'm okay-ish at painting but even I would never claim to be good; and she probably won't use it but it's an honour and a pure pleasure to do it - actually them. She wants two. And as much as I want to finish my horror book and get onto the last edit of Hoodies 2, I just can't stop until it's done. Talk about the attention span of a distracted Gnat.
I've also discovered and annihilated two usages of the word "suddenly" prefixing a couple of sentences in the book. I never realised how just absolutely rubbish they were. I know suddenly has a rightful place in any novel, but remembering Showing and not telling, they're gone, basking in the bowels of the Recycle bin for all eternity.
I think I'm going to be out of work during the Olympics. Being self employed, most of my clients are fleeing the country. And as much as I need to work to pay for my daughter's incredibly expensive lifestyle, I will be stuck at home. I'm not going to watch any of the games. Which will be easy because I'm one of those strange people apparently born with a gene deficiency. I hate sport. I can't think of a more boring or utterly pointless activity. I'd rather get a cup of tea and watch a slug crawl up a wall.
Here's another strange painting I did a couple of nights ago when I couldn't sleep mainly due to the fact that half of the RAF seems to have taken up residence at a nearby Airfield. I don't know whether they're there to protect us during the games, or just to send me completely raving nuts!
I know where I'd like to shove their afterburners.