30,193 words in and rolling. It's crossed my mind that if the publishers do show an interest in the book, I'm going to have to functionally abandon Against Gravity in the middle to take care of Angel Stations. I'm tempted to quite literally blitz through Gravity if it came to that, and get a (very) rough draft written up within two months. But at the moment I'm getting at least 1200 words done a day, which isn't bad going.

Doing a little research on Asian temples for Draeger's corporate home. I decided on Angkor Wat, since I remembered Moorcock used it for the start of the very first Jerry Cornelius novel. It's an appropriately mysticism-filled environment for someone like Draeger, with his quasi-religious theories. I hope I can do the idea justice. But don't all writers?

It's been sunny all week in Scotland, but a freezing Arctic wind cuts through everything like a knife. My sinuses have been blocked all week, and even going out gives me a headache within minutes. My life has become so sedentary recently that I feel even more unfit than I usually do. I really, really need to get some exercise and flatten this stomach a bit. I was doing crunches until Christmas but, surprise, surprise, I lost the habit over that period. Not that it was really making that much difference, but at least I felt like I was holding it at bay.

Off to Hubbards in a little bit to see who's there, it being Saturday night of course.

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