Yesterday's ending was from Grey Granite the third book of A Scot's Quair by Lewis Grassic Gibbon. Chris Guthrie, with her love of learning and the land, is one of my literary heroines.
Then that had finished; she went slow down the brae, only once looked back at the frown of the hills, and caught her breath at that sight that they held, seeing them bare of their clouds for once, the pillars of mist that aye crowned their heights, all but a faint wisp vanishing south, and the bare still rocks upturned to the sky.
What is it with deadlines? Only four days left of February and I will have to work pretty hard to complete the first rewrite (having been a bit lazy about it till now!) Do you procrastinate until you get close to a deadline?
I am thinking of entering the first 500 words of my novel into a competition in Psychologies magazine....nothing to lose..so why does the very thought make me feel nervous?
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