I love the time between Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve. It goes quiet then gets busy again, but it’s a perfect time for drifting around the house, calmly pottering. The house usually empties a little at this time of year; two thirds of the children go to stay with grandparents, husband works through. I do love an emptyish house.

I am working still on ORANGE, polishing it, moving sentences around. I swear, every time I look at it, something else occurs to me. A manuscript is never finished I don’t think. I would like to say it’s finished once it’s published but I’ve heard writers say that even then, they see stuff they would change if they could.

Bluddy hell.

And this, from the current The Victorian Writer, a small magazine put out once a month. Roderick, the director (outgoing) has this to say in his Director’s Note:

I recently had coffee with an established writer who shall remain nameless. S/he had a book contract for a novel with a large international publisher and a publication date set for March 2013. Editing was complete and s/he was expecting galleys any day. His/her editor called to say they had just been sacked. The publisher communicated nothing for seven weeks and then finally made contact to say that publication would be put on ice. This with all contracts signed and an advance paid.

Fuck.

If that aint enough to make non-established, non-contracted writers feel sick then I don’t know what is.

In better news, Yellow-fin sashimi for dinner, followed by oysters and then whole rainbow trout. Yum. Maybe with some Chandon, you suggest? Good idea.

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