Bloody shorties. I have decided that this whole ‘themed collection’ thing is a pain in the arse. Well, actually it’s a pain in the head, but that doesn’t trip off the tongue as well. My twelve days of Christmas are sometimes easy to write, and sometimes I just want to batter the computer over the monitor with a sledgehammer. The one I’m working on at the moment is one of the latter. Sodding thing.
I’ve written it. Edited it. Completely abandoned it. Started again from scratch. Abandoned it again. And then gone and done something completely different. Arrrrrgh! Pain. Anger. Disappointment. Wind...
So such gems as:
It wasn’t easy for DI George ‘Stinky’ McClain – his natural inclination was to stare at the jiggling bosom of Jacques Delaflote’s daughter, but the spectre of his own wife and three-month-old child forbade it. ... He looked anyway. Trying not to make it too obvious. Mélanie Delaflote was twenty two, curvaceous, vivacious, and sexy as hell. George had to stand slightly stooped to make sure his truncheon wasn’t showing.
“Did I miss anything, sir?” DS Renard: short-arse in a suit, receding ginger hair, thin face, pot belly. Not exactly every woman’s dream. But a good enough policeman, if you were prepared to look the other way every now and then.
Are lost for all eternity.
And I’m running out of time too. Not long now before the last airmail to Dublin – the next Skeleton Bob has to be done by then too, and I’ve not even started. Plus I’m beginning to get the impression that ‘Skeleton Bob and the Four Sheep of the Apocalypse’ might take a few more pages to tell than I’m going to be able to manage before Postman Pat will have to do the dirty deed.
Still, I’ve only got myself to blame and if you don’t set yourself ‘stretch goals’ (as we used to say at INOGITCH) how are you ever going to better yourself?