Short Story: No Chicken
I've been doing a silly amount of editing on The Sad Club, which is now up to draft number six. I'm hoping that this means it's ready to send, but there's still a part of me which is concerned that it's far too long to even be considered for a flick-through. I guess at some point I'm going to have to chance my arm, but I fear there's more work to be done on it. Anyway, that's for another time, because I'm in writing mode, which I generally am over the summer. I tend to be more materially productive when the sun's shining, because autumn and winter don't agree with me at all. So beyond the odd few hundred words every few nights, I'd anticipate I'll be back editing what I've written over the last five weeks or so when the nights start drawing in. As a consequence of the massive cutting exercise I've been involved in (The Sad Club has been cut from over two hundred thousand words to less than 160k, which is still twice t