Terracing blues

Personally, life is good. I’ve just paid off my mortgage, so I own my land and buildings. I’ve chucked in my job, and even after paying the mortgage, I’ve got enough money to keep me in champagne and travel for a couple of years. 

Which gives me time to finish a revision of the bdsm book (chapters 1 and 2 are crap and need re-writing from the ground up, though the rest is okay). I want that published by a dead-tree publisher, because it’s a Serious Work, and also for the kudos of it. After that I can maybe sell other writing as e-books. 

I have another book, a novel, that also needs revision to make it work, but that will be published under a different name for various reasons, so I won’t say anything about it here.   Except to say that if it sells well, and people start screaming out for sequels, the third book will have the Mahdi (a saintly religious figure, or a 19th-century Sudanese slave-trader and rapist, primarily of young boys, depending on your point of view) as a character. 

And I’ve finished the terrace I’ve been building, to flatten some of the back garden so that drunk and stoned people don’t run helplessly downhill and fall over. Unless they want to. 

Stinks like a pile of dead rats at the moment, because I put down blood and bone mix before I sowed the grass seeds. It'll be all green in a few days.

My new terraces. They stink like a pile of dead rats at the moment, because I put down blood and bone mix before I sowed the grass seeds. It’ll be all green in a few days.

 

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.