I’ve now applied the last few changes to the ending of Guardians of Paradise (see further ‘blowing more sh*t up now’). Some of the final tweaks had to be done in the back of an SUV being driven round the M25, but it was either that or cancel my weekend plans and I do still have a life, damnit.
I’ve also done the ‘inadvertent sex-toy check’, making that into something of a game with the friends with whom we spent part of the weekend. No serious faux pas there, though one character shares a name with a Japanese idol singer, and another one is, apparently, an old Norse word for tooth. I can live with this.
So, the novel’s ready to go off to the agent and from thence to my editor. The deadline isn’t actually until Tuesday, but tomorrow I’m off up to London for ‘Physics for Fiction’, a seminar at Imperial College for professional SF writers, where we get to pick the brains of real live scientists. I have a long list of questions …
Given Guardians is now, technically, done (at least until and unless my editor says otherwise), I should probably celebrate, but between exhaustion and the excessive heat, I really can’t be arsed, so I’ll probably just plonk myself down in front of the Glasto highlights with a cold glass of cider.