"For a cautionary tale, everybody cites Paul Bradley Carr" - THE SUNDAY TIMES

Month: December 2006

Back in the room

Here we go again. The final countdown.

I’m back at my computer, merging together the words of both Pond and me. 40,000 of the little buggers in total, although God only knows how many there’ll be after the edit. I’m making the first stab at an edit as I go, hopefully to safe the copy editors a little bit of work. But mainly so we don’t embarrass ourselves.

Oh, by the by, a few people have assumed that the book is for TFP. It isn’t, it’s for Pan Macmillan. Being on the other side of the fence again is an odd experience, but a good one. Read more...

Twenty seven

Thank you for the emails. No, I am not dead. Almost, but not quite.

I didn’t have much chance to blog yesterday. It was my birthday, you see, and the day I officially resigned from TFP to do this buy-out malarkey.

I absolutely detest birthdays. They embarrass me. I’m a terrible attention-seeking egotist – this much we know – but still there’s something about the undeserved gestures of special treatment one gets on the anniversary of one’s birth that makes me uneasy. “Do you want some cake?” No thanks. “But it’s your birthday.” Ok, I’ll have some cake. “Have some more cake…” “Let’s go to Disneyland…” Stop it. Read more...

Worst blogger ever

Almost forgot to update before bed.

1. Last night’s word target smashed by 21 words – 5521. 6000ish to go.
2. Bank visited the very moment it opened to pay an important cheque.
3. Press release sent.
4. Couple of hours sleep before starting the whole thing again.

If anyone phones me in the next 120 minutes – regardless of whether it’s Jesus Christ himself – they will be receiving the sharp end of my tongue.

Night night.

The hole in my shoe is a metaphor for my soul

As if preparations for the formal launch of the new project weren’t enough, I’m trying an experiment. Writing half a book in a week. And it’s an experiment borne of the adventures of the last few weeks leaving me no time to get on with outside commitments.

The Second Life book is due on Friday, and Pond and I are writing half each. I’ve done a ton of research – don’t get me wrong – but so far, as regards writing the mother, I’ve not quite broken the back of it.

So, here I am, sitting in front of my computer – denying myself sleep until I’ve written at least 3000 words. I’ve been here since 7. I have coffee. I have music. I have fingers. I’ve writen nearly 1000 and I’m motoring along. And then, if I can finish about 6ish, I can stroll down the road to McDonald’s to get myself a Big Breakfast meal – the trans-fat light at the end of the allnighter tunnel. Read more...


5:10am and 3000 words – a whole chapter – in the bag as Golden Brown plays on the radio. Just got to edit the sucker now; make sure I haven’t missed anything enormous and it’s breakfast time. After that I reckon I’m good for another could of thousand words before bed. I’m on a roll.

Ooh – Bohemian Rhapsody.

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