Mr MacBride: him not feel to shiny

I can’t believe I only managed to type up 84 pages yesterday! It took me 13 hours! For 84 pages! And that’s not 13 hours including breaks for lunch and tea, that’s 13 whole bloody hours. So my productivity seems to be taking a pronounced dip at the moment. I’m not sure if this is because I’ve been sitting at this damn computer for the last three days solid, or if it’s because as I went through the manuscript with a collection of red pens I did a hell of a lot more scribbling in the last third. So there’s a lot more to type up.

It must be said that I’m also pretty damn knacked this week. Sitting here day after day has done my back no favours, so actually sleeping through the night (which I don’t really manage at the best of times) is impossible. On the plus side, when I go to the HarperCollins author party in London next Friday I won’t have to take any luggage; I’ll just pack everything into the two huge black bags under my eyes. Hand luggage only, my friend. Ah, yes…

The nice people from HC throw the bash every summer to celebrate everyone they’ve published since the last one, so it’s not just new fish like me, there will be proper authors and stuff too. I’m guessing they’ll be the ones making an economical figure of eight between the bar and the buffet, while the newbies wander around with a dazed expressions on their faces, wondering why everyone else is much more drunk and fed than they are. Champagne and prawns for me – that’s the goal. Mind you I’ll have help, Agent Phil (who’s entitled to 10% of any drink or canapé I get) will be there also, and he’s only little so will be able to nip under tables and scurry between people’s legs to get the finest morsels. No, it’s true! Honest ;}#

Right, enough fun and frivolity - I’m off to check up on Dilbert and Get Fuzzy, then it’s back to the edit. Only 67 pages to go!

Oh God...