It’s Sunday morning and frankly, Cat, I could have done with a few more hours’ sleep, thank you very much. Not everyone wants breakfast at 5.00 a.m. and not everyone wants to revisit your bowl at 6.15 a.m.
But still, I’m up now and at least I can get ahead of myself. I am aiming for 2,500 words per day minimum on the new book, and am managing that so far. It might not sound like a lot (and it isn’t) but after two months that will be 150,000 words, which is plenty for a first draft. I can then revise and rewrite and away we go. I am up to around 40,000 words already. But whether any of them are any good or not… well, that remains to be read.
Before I forget, if you are reading this on Symi, or on your way to Symi today, then there’s a musical treat for you at ‘The Secret Garden’ later this evening, around 21.00: Marcus, George and Terri will be playing guitars and Clare will be singing. Everyone’s welcome.
Back to the story about the story and back to the previous story, Lonely House. My editing meeting was fun last Friday. I’ve not done this ‘show screen’ on Skype before and I expect those who have will roll their eyes and say, ‘Oh, that is sooo last year,’ but it was new to me. Editor and I chatted as if on the phone while looking at the InDesign layout for the book that Editor had prepared. We’d find a widow or an orphan and I’d point to the screen and say, ‘Lose that word there,’ and Editor would say, ‘I can’t see what you’re pointing at malaka,’ and I’d say, ‘There! Where my finger is.’ And he’d say, ‘No, I really can’t see you!’ And I’d remember that he can’t see me so I’d have to say, ‘Third line down…’ and so on.
But we got through six chapters which would have taken us days to do via email. As you slaughter one widow another may be created further along in the chapter, you see. We have booked another session for Tuesday and will aim to get ten chapters done then. Then we will be about half way through the book.
As it’s Sunday today I can’t tell you how the dance show went because that is happening tonight, but I reckon we’ll all be fine. We did some home rehearsal last night to keep the steps in mind and now Neil has a problem with his back. But the show must go on. And it will and I expect there will be photos all over Facebook and some on the blog, if people will let me borrow them, as I won’t be able to take photos of myself in action. That will be the next thing: Selfie-sticks for dancers.
So, on with Sunday: emails to do, shopping to buy, costume to iron, 2,500 words to write, sleep to catch up on, two tap dances to do, perhaps (yet) another dinner at a taverna afterwards, and then to sleep, perchance to be allowed to dream by the cat.
I just wanted to leave you, for no apparent reason, with the old French word equivalent to the current Greek word for various European politicians and money lenders (as used above by the Editor). The word is, ‘Dándiprat’ and Samuel Johnson defines it thus: “[dandin, French] A little fellow; an urchin: a word used sometimes in fondness, sometimes in contempt.” I guess that’s where we get Dandini from (panto, Cinderella).
Have a good day (May the fourth be with you) and here’s wishing you a good week ahead.
