Mince pies have been in the supermarkets for weeks, which must mean it's... nearly Halloween. Not my favourite celebration of the year - all those hooded creatures turning up at the front door wearing masks and demanding money (and I don't mean the bailiffs.)
Discussing Halloween at work, I mentioned that when I were a lass, living 'Oop North, we didn't celebrate it at all, but the day before Bonfire Night was fairly similar. The 4th of November was called Mischievous Night - similar to trick or treating, only ... well without the treating really. No dressing up or anything, just people knocking on doors and running away, throwing eggs and flour around, smearing syrup on door handles (we once fashioned a cake from the mess left outside) making rather obvious ghosty noises outside the window, frightening old people, that sort of thing. You'd (quite rightly) be given an Asbo for it today.
The thing is, NO-ONE knew what I was talking about. Is it a Northern Thing? Has anyone else heard of Mischievous Night? Did I dream it all? And if so, what a peculiar child I must have been.
Anyhoo. The editing's more or less done. My early chapters have been shown to some lovely and trusted writer friends who have offered constructive and helpful advice, and the manuscript's currently sitting there looking at me accusingly, saying "Well? Aren't you going to send me out into the world then? I'm all grown up now, you know."
Well yes, except that every day I think of something else I need to add or take away or improve on or explain better, or change, and I've realised again the importance of not submitting your work too early.
Patience, patience. Soon, my beauty, soon ...