. . . since I posted anything. The summer has spluttered to a halt, though I'm surprised it made it as far as it did. The man who cleaned the carpets today told me Easter is the new summer, as we waited for the torrential rain to ease so he could load up his van.
Next week I'm getting a proof copy of The Court Painter's Apprentice, due to be published in the new year. It's been a ridiculously easy ride getting this out, compared to my previous experience. And I think that's largely down to the brilliance and energy of my editor, Non at Catnip.
When somebody says 'have you thought about this?' and you haven't, even though you've read the manuscript 100 times, then you know you're onto a good thing. She has the uncanny ability to inspire confidence. And she does what she says she's going to do, which is always welcome because writers sometimes live in a kind of hopeful space, waiting for the next email or rejection slip.
If I ever doubted the idea of a writer needing a good editor, that opinion is now a permanent resident in my mind.
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