I have been hunting.
Chasing the errant apostrophe, relentlessly pursuing absconding commas and pouncing upon nigh-invisible extra spaces. My eyes are still scrolling, though the pages have, for now, stopped… Yes. Proofing.
Not. I hasten to add, alone. Other eyes have also been focussed on the task, locked in their own battle with absquatulating semicolons and versions and edits wing their way through the ether.
But it is a time when the world ceases to exist… there is little more than you and the alphabet, arrayed in what becomes a dancing kaleidoscope as you seek out the flaws, working as much with patterns as you do with words.
The only constant is the coffee.
All of which means that a book is about to be published…
Not your usual book, perhaps… though it is one of ours … the sixth in my joint adventure with Stuart France. A weaving of…
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