in which Ian reveals he is a secret writer....

S'quite annoying that I repeatedly fail to hit the 'save' key and lose my posts. Dammit.
So, currently I am mostly grumpy. My job sucks at the moment, my jobs sucks most of the time, but at the moment it sucks more. In the last week and a half my boss has had me in tears for 5days out of 7. How marvellous. Perhaps I need a new job. I am so stressed out, and so miserable that I can't read. I'm not even lying. I settle myself down with a hot milk and honey and my Margaret Atwood and I start reading. & then I have to stop because I realise I've read the same line seven times and all I can think about is what's going to happen at work the next day and I have a horrible knot in my tummy and the only way of getting rid of it is to be asleep. Reading has always been my only escape. How bad is it that even that doesn't work anymore.

Anyway, enough enough. On to more optimistic topics. I am nervously awaiting the return of my first TMA, which should be here in the next few days. Eek. I hope I haven't failed. This week I am working on chracter development. I like it. I might post some of the exercises on here, if anybody is interested in reading what I'm doing? Last night's exercise has even left a little plot bunny hopping around, so I might take it further, make it into an actual piece. How exciting.
It was lovely last night actually. Aaah, Jasper. I was laid on the floor writing away, and he came and laid next to me, little white paws resting on the edge of my paper, big kitten eyes staring at me. He was entranced. A literary kitten.
& Ian, wellwell, what a dark horse. I did my work last night and went for a shower leaving him with the workbook and a pad and pen. He had a go at the exercise, and you know what, it was bloody good! Who knew! & we had such a laugh, I think I shall make him my unofficial OU buddy....

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