As another weekend -- and birthday ... thirty-four ... where'd thirty-three disappear to? Must have blinked ... -- and I find myself sitting on my oversized beanbag, with laptop in lap, busily trying to pen a few more paragraphs for the story I'm currently writing. This one will probably be called The Coyote, but I'm never sure until I see what it finally becomes. Things I write rarely turn out the way I initially envisage them. It's a good thing, because most of the enjoyment gained from writing is in taking the journey, and it is always more fun not to know where you'll visit; or where you'll finally end up.
Last night was spent in much the same vein, except that the written word was replaced by the spoken word, as Regina and myself edited together her recording of the The Green Man. The final edit comes in at around 45 minutes; and it took a good three hours to stitch it together. Having listened to the final version from start to finish, I think it has been time well spent. She has done an excellent job, which you can all judge for yourselves very shortly.
There is bad news: the decision has been made to re-record The Voyage from scratch. I may have mentioned a certain person's predilection towards perfectionism before ...
Enough waffling for now, I've been distracted far too much while trying to write Coyote. Would you believe that I wrote the opening last October? And I haven't even reached two thousand words yet ...
