So I have a piece in the August issue of 'Writing Magazine', which should be out about now, in a regular column called 'My Writing Day' (the cover to the left there is for the previous issue, so I guess they don't have the newest one up yet). It's the yakety-yak you'd expect along the lines of: get up, eat food, lounge about, scratch my arse, watch tv, then frantically bang out about three thousand words of red-hot prose starting about quarter to midnight when the guilt trip really settles in. Don't know if my name is on the cover of the August issue (they're sending me a copy which, with prayers to the dark and sacrificial Gods of the Post Office, should come through to me sometime soon), but it certainly would be nice if it was.
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I'm looking forward to reading it, but I should point out that although we Dark Gods like prayers, we prefer offerings. Preferably not burnt. A typical writhing day, eh?
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