The sheep return to work and hand me a quill......

It's dark outside, it's that peek/trough in the middle of the week and I'm at work.....after a few hours sleep !

Yes, even with some peoples attempts at old song related sabotage (you know who you are) I seemed to drift off last night. I'm assuming therefore that the sheep have left the picket line and let the faerie with the magic dust through. That's how sleep works, isn't it ?

All this blogging and reading other electronic homes of people who write (really write, with dust jackets and everything) has led me to really focus on getting back to working on the things I've got in the air at the moment.

I've been juggling two part finished poems, the start of a collection of limericks based on everyday objects, 8500 words of a short story draft and, for no real reason, a mercifully short stand up comedy routine complete with heckler stoppers. Actually Ray's heard some of that and he'd most likely debate the "comedy" tag. I'm sure he'll enlighten us shortly.

I do have finished work though and I'm very close to getting somebody else to cast an eye over some of it. It's that rejection thing rearing it's head, though I realise that if you don't jump from the plane you'll never know if the home-made parachute actually works. Actually, thats a really bad analogy - prose is rarely fatal if it fails. Rarely. Bomb disposal manuals may count, I guess.

I shall discuss this further with my local neighbourhood page scratcher when he makes it into work and see what transpires.