OK. Gone.
I have dispatched Touch to the guys at BubbleCow. They have won the dubious privilege of editing 93,000 words of pure _____ (fill in your own word, I like ‘genius’ and will go with that for the next few weeks until I get the edit back. At that point I will most likely cry with despair and look for a cliff to leap from).
It feels strange sending off the manuscript (can you call it that when it is just zeros and ones flying up through my telephone line?) because it freezes the text; for the last few months there hasn’t been more than a couple of days in a row where I haven’t worked on it. Now nothing can happen until my baby returns. Not that DI Savage and her colleagues are resting, oh no. They just can’t lie still and are already embroiled in a new adventure. Provisional title is Chains and I don’t know exactly where it is going yet, but going it is. Some while ago I thought that I might like a break and would spend time going over an old science fiction work, but Savage and co. won’t stop hassling me so if I don’t want to spend a few nights banged up in the custody suite at Charles Cross in Plymouth then I had better do as they ask. I can see that writing a series rather than a one-off novel is quite compelling. It is also unsettling because the story arc does not finish. I can quite understand why some authors want to kill their lead character off: it is the only why to shut them up!
