I didn’t do any editing, or any proof-reading. Or not until the evening at any rate.
Instead, yesterday I had another writing day. I finalised and submitted that travel article I put to cool yesterday; I planned and wrote from scratch a markets article, and got that submitted too; I typed up the holiday short story (draft 3) and put that to cool. And I tinkered with another short story that didn’t get placed in a competition recently.
I also put through, hung out and put away another 3 washloads, updated the gig list and added in 5 posters, did the daily comps, wrote the blog, walked the dog, etc, etc, etc.
Rufus wasn’t very well yesterday at all and was sick a few times, but that should teach him eating snails and parasol-base-bungs and stones and insects and … It should, but he still does it. If it fits in his mouth … So I was keeping half an eye on him. He seemed happy enough, he just kept on vomiting, but once I got him to eat something he seemed to settle down.
It was another glorious day and I was sat in the garden again … when I felt something land on my head … Yup, you guessed it. Bird poo. If it’s supposed to be lucky, with all the competitions I’ve been entering, I’d like it to be the £60k cash + Volvo car + 7-day all-inclusive villa-holiday in Barbados, please. Thank you.
Today is errand day as I’m down in Solihull again tomorrow for a school reunion. My car has its MOT at 1:15pm and I have to do my weekly drop-off/pick-up with the publisher. I might do my shopping on the way home too. In between I’m editing that historical novel (yes, really …) and finalising and submitting the holiday short story.