So this is how it pans out.
I'm researching my speculative fiction Pi. A trilogy...something I have always wanted to write.

Then I was tinkering with Il est Mort. A comedy. I have this one all plotted and ready to go with 20k good words down. I think this one has great potential, but I felt I needed a break from it because I just couldn't get the humour quite right...after all it needs to be funny. Real LOL funny and it was only mildly chuckly if you know what I mean. I have stepped away and I'm thinking on it and it will all fall into place. I think I know what I need to do and will come back to it with a fresh eye.
Crispin Stitt is suffering. He needs to take control of his life, but when his editor hates him, his publisher won't talk to him and his wife wished he was dead, pinning his hopes for a happy life on his latest manuscript is optimism in the extreme.
So I started this one. It is just the ticket to keep me entertained while I write. This one is zippy and set in England, which suits my humour down to the ground. I am on the boil with this one.

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