No fire in the hole

I flushed out the fox in hole - or rather they fessed under little or no examination. All rather disappointing really; a definite whimper-not-bang situation. Who it is and why they did it is not relevant - though it still slightly bemuses me, both in motive and the poorness of execution. It is enough to know that they will not be back.

I should have been cracking on with flogging the novel but that has had to hit the backburner...in fact I think I might have turned of the gas. It is there, sitting, ever evident, but i have been frying the cashfish, flogging my creative wares on the freelance circuit and making pretty good too. So after next week, when I have nother cashfish deadline, I will be back on the hawking trail...not stalking a spaz genius with a robot voice. I will be doing the agent thing.

Which reminds me to remind you that I have had jack shit for an age in respect of HALF LIVED on this blog from agents, publishers, groupies or wannabies.

Get your fucking shit together; get mesquite; get charcoal briquettes; get propane; get what-the-fuck-ever is your combustible of choice and let's get some fire in this hole.

You know you want to.