Will Oldham Sings Like A Goat

Ah, the bollockity crabs start munching away at the novel. There I sit, tapping away, feeling chuffed to bits at the speed of the progress when something happens that leads to expletives and head scratching. I wasn't even thinking about this part of the book but it leapt out at me anyway. Yep, there it was, not an inaccuracy, but a bloody great big impossibility.

So I sent of three texts to the selected few who I harass into boredom on a regular basis to tell them what had happened and then spent the next hour going through my indiscretion to smooth out this bumpiness. It made my head hurt. It was hidden (not my head), I must admit, but it was defiantly there.

So, got it sussed and then cracked on with the book. And now, actually this feels a bit like when they used to announce the latest amount raised on Blue Peter's latest appeal, the word count is now....

Trumpets...

13,913 words!!! Also, I feel more importantly, I have finished the first section. Mr P has finished off his first few days on earth and is now going to have a few days of mundanity.

Oh, and Mr H, just for you, him and Kate do shag...