A fat grey slug

That's what my brain has felt like all morning. I thought for a second I had lost the momentum on my novel altogether (at page 131 no less) but I managed to get the stylus back in the groove and complete 800 words at work. Nonetheless, the final pages are not running themselves off in that panting, breathless flourish of euphoria that they usually do. In fact, this is the flattest patch I can remember since the 80s... perhaps because it has a more sedate conclusion than most of the other books I have written.

As you can probably gather, the weekend wasn't the trove of productivity I had hoped – although I did put fingers to keys on both days (1,200 on Saturday, 800 on Sunday) so it was far from a dead loss.

A quick flick back to the start of Truck Me to check names and events affecting current composition has suggested that steady characterisation is going to be the toughest part of the editing job this time around. Particularly deciding how much of an arse my main protagonist should be... a real balancing act.