My weekend went well. No culinary disasters, which is good as I'm not exactly the world's best chef. I can think of lots of things to do that I enjoy far more than cooking, but one has to do it sometimes. I did not lose the thread of my plot while I stood there boiling, roasting and pureeing, which is a huge bonus, and my time since Sunday morning (after all the washing up and putting away) has been spent writing a new chapter to insert as Chapter 21.
It went well once I started, and of course it threw up, as this sort of edit usually does, things to tweak elsewhere in the book. I caught myself writing "dark eyes" for my hero when I know perfectly well that he has grey eyes. Now I worry how many other times I have made that same error.
I'm at the printing-out-of-the-whole-ms stage and then it will be the read through. Here's hoping I don't find many glaring errors, but even more I hope that the pacing will be improved. Someone, I cannot remember who, told me to start a book like Dick Francis - "he has good openings." Well, I checked the half dozen copies on my shelves, and he has. They are excellent openings - for a thriller. However, that sort of opening does not translate very readily to a romance. So I followed someone else's advice - "Start where thing start to go wrong." That works better for a romance.
The last picture of Newcastle - the Millenium Bridge and the Baltic Art Gallery behind it. Next time there will be pictures of lambs and daffodils, I promise.