I was going to do a big travelogue-style post about my recent bout of gadding about -- I feel much better now I've stopped taking the tablets, thanks for asking -- but instead I have been busy planning an novella. Which is strange territory for me. Nowhere near enough words to be a novel and far too many to be a short story. A sort of grey, undiscovered wilderness of indistinctness. And strange smells.
But right now my whiteboard is clarted with little squiggly lines and words like 'castration'... OK, so none of the other words are like castration, but you get the general picture. Come to think of it, there aren't many words like castration. Well, maybe 'information' and 'revelation' and 'radiation' and 'decapitation'... actually, now I come to think about it there are loads of words like castration. But only one of them means lopping off someone's sinful man-winky.
Anyway, the whole point of this is that I've not had time to write up my various travels to bore the hairy arse off you.
In the meantime though, if you're in the market for hairy arse removal you can find me at the Writers' Dock, where I'll be hanging out all week, telling people to try the shrimp, singing a medley of Frank Sinatra's greatest hits in the style of Kermit the Frog, and answering writing-themed questions. Such as who would win in a fight: John Rickards or Val McDermid?
Intellectual like a fox, that's me.
Labels: events, ramble, Stuff about me