Before the storm

Well, I have now officially tidied away all the little loose ends within the book that people will soon know as BROKEN SKIN, except in Her Majesty’s former colonies of those United States, where they don’t like it and want something less ‘graphic’*. Now all I have to do is rewrite the last three chapters and I’ll be laughing. Haha… no, hold on, I need more of a manic edge… Mehehahahahshhahashahahaaaaa! *ahem* Oh dear God…

Anyway, I’ve done some extensive tweaking to make a certain bit more whoompy, and added in extra bits and cut out heaps of other bits, and now I’m ready to leave behind the base camps of certainty and make the perilous final ascent to the big pointy bit at the top of this analogy, with Sherpas peching and heeching all the way.

Over all I’m pretty happy with the shape of things, even though I know those lovely ladies at HarperCollins are going to scream, “Where the hell are all the bits we liked, YOU BEARDED ARSE?” They need to drink less coffee.

And I’ve got the whole last rush planned out in my loveable head too. I did it yesterday, sprawled out in a sunbeam with Grendel T Kitten, slotting all the various bits into place like raw slices of bread into a toaster. Only without the burning smell. The only thing that now troubles me is the fate of PC John Rickards. In the first draft he snuffs it. In the second… I can’t decide. Should I kill him, or shouldn’t I? Well, anyone who’s met the real one will be rooting for the former, and yet… I can’t decide.

I did ask She Who Must Be Consulted When I Don’t Want To Make A Decision if I should put a poll on the blog, but she wasn’t keen. It would give the game away if everyone knew whether or not PC Rickards lived or not. And she’s right… I have to say that or I’ll become one of those battered husband statistics.

Mind you, I could do it as a secret ballot, where the only person in the know is me! Bwahahahahaha: the POWER! Only I already have the power of life and death over Stinky Rickards, so it’s not exactly time for an ego-trip. And if it’s anonymous and hidden I can do whatever the hell I want anyway, so there’s no UN oversight on the ballot-stuffing front. I am a rotten burgh.

Anyway, the end is nigh, as the proctologist said to the snooker player, so I suppose I should announce my intention to hold an competition! Ah yes, beard fans, nothing says “I’ve finished my ****ing book, you ****ing ****s!” like giving away other peoples. So if you wanna be in for a chance with prizes and stuff and things I’m going to need you to email me with what you think the final word count for the delivered draft is going to be. Or the number of times the word ‘ARSE!’ is mentioned. Nearest the thingie gets the most whatnots. A full list of prizes will be posted later. When I can decide what they are.

In the meantime the contracted size of Logan Book 3 is 150,000 words. Draft number the first was 153,728 and contained 82 separate incidences of the word ‘ARSE’. Mr Stephen King (Will Do Harrowing Halloween-Murder-And-Horror-Themed Balloon Animals For Food) recommends that the second draft should be like unto the first, only with 10% less shite. But I’m a bastard when it comes to editing my own work, and he’s like, a totally girly Girl Guide, or something involving minty cookies. And he’s not on record (as far as I know) on his beliefs apropos the word ‘ARSE’.

So, them what can be bothered winning unspecified stuff – but including books – can email their predictions to COMPETITION(and this is the bit where we try to screw-over spam emailers by hiding the at sign)@(and here comes the domain) And if you can’t be arsed… don’t. That’ll teach you.

And now, a word from our sponsors ;}#

* Yes, I know, but everyone's different. Given the content I've suggested 'BUTT PLUG', and so far that's the front runner. I'd love to go on a tour with 'BUTT PLUG' T-shirts, and special, limited-edition, vibrating books...