I managed to scare someone on Monday with the misleading post title -- 'Editing Monkey Man -- Day 1' By this I meant that I was a man monkey on an editing mission. But it turns out that Steve Brewer's new book is called MONKEY MAN. And as he's a very nice bloke with a fulsome and manly beard, I have to publicly state that I'm not taking my Ninja Red Pen Of Ninjadom to his book!
Let's be honest here: I wouldn't wish me as an editor on anyone. Well, maybe a couple of people, but they'd deserve it. Take that! I would shout, hacking and slashing away with my 0.7 Zebra J-Roller RX! But not for long, as I'm on my last one and it's on its last legs. And mighty would be the author's fear, and great their suffering. And probably loose their bowels, but we needn't go into that here. I would hate to have me as an editor... only I do, so the whole point is moot, I suppose. Take that, me! ... or something...
Anyway: right now the edit of DOOM is on its fourth day and I've slaughtered 7,607 words (that's a squink and a wink shy of 2,000 a day) And one thing I've come to realise during this process is that I can't write for toffee. If you were to walk in here right now, with a big bag of toffee and say, "Yo, Dude!" (because obviously you're some sort of Californian surfer stereotype) "These are, like, totally for you, if you write something for me!" And I'd sit there and say, "Well, thanks for the offer, dude-person-thing, but I'm afraid I can't write for those." And you'd say, "It's the shorts, isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have, but they were on sale in the bargain bin at Poundsavers." And I'd say, "It's not the shorts... well, maybe a little bit..." and then it would get all Shakespearian with witches and bizarre dialogue in iambic pentameter. Pretty standard Thursday night, in other words.
But at this rate I'll be all edited out before the end of the month, provided I can do some editing at Harrogate. Well, I wrote at Left Coast Crime, so I should be able to resist the lure of the bar this time too... but I've bought a rover ticket! That means I have to get value for money by heckling as many panels as possible. Including the boy Rickards and Madame Barclay's one. "Oy! What's that smell of whelks?"
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