All that stuff...

Working. Writing. Re-drafting. All that stuff, I suppose, that writers are supposed to do. Yes, I'm at the chalkface, the coalface, the shitface of creativity. Big play to re-draft, Humber Mouth 2010 play to belt into shape, Larkin25 gubbins to sort, assorted short pieces to deliver to some mad bloke that's interested in what I do, two short films to edit. Then there are all these writing workshops. Which are fun. But eat into time I'd otherwise spend, well, doing the above. Why, there's barely time to blog.

There's a helicopter overhead, as I write this. A police chopper. Whenever a helicopter's overhead I always think of Goodfellas and I pretend I'm Henry Hill. Then I remember I was never a mobster, never a wiseguy and never trafficked narcotics. I'm just a writer, the lowest of the low, trying to redraft some stuff and make some other stuff.

Got Spotify? Listen to Harry Nilsson's Jump Into The Fire - from the Goodfellas soundtrack - here