I have all three belles home for the six week hols. They all have differing plans. Eldest is tied up with driving lessons and card making workshops. Middle belle is involved with Everybody Dance Now, the big millenium festival of dance and drama in Wolverhampton. Youngest belle always has plans, most of which revolve around her hectic social calendar.
I'm counting down the days to my holiday - ten days in Devon coming up in the next few weeks. Before then though I seem to have landed myself with a load of work. I have four submissions out there, edits coming this week on Renovation, Renovation, Renovation, a deadline galloping towards me for the next contracted book and in the midst of this my brain thinks it would be a good time for me to write a childrens story.
I don't write children's stories. The only other one was Bertie the Christmas Beetle which I wrote for my neice in December - yet now I have a 1k fairytale called the Emperor's Gold Fish. I have no idea if they are any good or even what on earth I could do with them.
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