Well, maybe that's being a bit presumptive. Draft 6 has just been completed and I spent most of my time tweaking punctuation and correcting the odd spelling mistake. There were changes to the odd word here and there and some consolidation of style. Other than that, the story is told. It's time to stop.
So, for the next couple of weeks I'm not going to look at the manuscript. I'm just going to let it stew (or fester, depending how you look at it) and pick up on some other projects that have been languishing at the back of my mind and on my hard drive.
I've got the last heir to the throne waiting for me in Glasgow.
And there's the son of a Lord biding his time in the rat infested dungeon of a castle in the middle of nowhere.
Worse than this though, are the characters who are going to feature in my next NaNoWriMo script. They're starting to grow and are wanting to be heard. Scenes and snatches of dialogue are tapping away in my head, demanding my attention. I need to keep them quiet until November (otherwise I'll have come up with another idea if I can't hold them back).
Anyway, back to the current WIP.
Hopefully the next read, in a couple of weeks time, will be the last one. Then I'll have to decide how to go about publishing - self-pub, e-publisher, or even traditional print. The jury hasn't even retired on this one yet, but I think it will come out as an e-book.
I've been reticent about speaking the novel's name until now. With the end in sight (fingers crossed) I think it's time to name the beast.
The novel will be called, THE DEAD HAVE NO SHADOWS.
To whet your appetites here is the first part of the synopsis and the opening paragraph from chapter one.
Someone wants Mickey Raymond dead. He has done nothing to earn enemies like that, but he will – if he is allowed to live. He does have an ally though. Mickey’s life cannot be saved but there is a chance that his soul can.
Birds scattered and children screamed as the shots rang out. Three holes appeared in Mickey Raymond’s chest. Mickey staggered backwards, crashing against the plate glass window of the St Peter’s Street branch of Barclays Bank - the bank that he had just robbed.
I'll have to leave it at that for now. I have a monarch and a Lordling to attend to.