There's a strange feeling about reading your own work back. That's what I've been doing tonight, and reading it on hard copy, rather than a screen.
In the first eight chapters, I've found about eight typos that need correcting, but apart from that I'm not too worried. The corrections will be made. As for the story - it is what it is. I don't doubt I could make it better, but I've moved on from this segment of Matho's story. I've completed the second, and I'm now thinking about a third segment, and I don't really want to go back to the beginning just yet. I want to find out what happens to Matho when I take him to France.
I'm in that relaxed time when I'm slowly reading around the period and letting my subconscious work on the story. Maybe by the time I go to France on holiday, I'll be ready to rough out a draft. Writing about France while I'm in France has a certain appeal, and there'll be lots of time to spare. Last July we found it so very hot we didn't go far. That sort of heat comes as a shock to the British system, used as we are to cool climes.
I remember a few occasions when I went to the downstairs section of the mill because it was so much cooler there. We went for walks early in the morning, because by ten the heat was starting to build, and didn't slacken until perhaps eight in the evening. That leaves the middle hours of the day to lounge around, and that's when the laptop comes into its own.
We've had nearly three weeks of horrendous winds here in the north, followed by grey, cool days. For the last few days we've had heavy rain. Now I'm more than ready for a few weeks of sunshine and being warm, and holidays can't come soon enough. I'm aready thinking of which clothes to wash in preparation for packing, what to wear on the journey, shall I take paperbacks on buy something for my e-reader, shall I buy that little white jacket that looked so pretty in the Land's End catalogue...