The recruitment office is now closed. Thanks to everyone who volunteered. I have a great team of advance readers lined up, doing their warm-ups. Damn, I should have ordered T shirts.

I have a lot of projects on the go at the moment  –  proof-reading, novel-writing, non-fiction proposals, bonus material preparation, ironing, sink unblocking….  This may explain what happened to me the other night. I woke, couldn’t get back to sleep, and lay thinking about work, in particular The Early Birds which is about to go to press.

Suddenly I had a stomach-lurching thought. Having killed off a character on page 18, didn’t I then have him fishing for bass somewhere around page 90? WTF? How could I have done that? Why hadn’t anyone else noticed? Were my editors all asleep on the job? Better get up, I thought. Better to face the horrible truth right now even if it is 2am.

But it was a very cold night, the wind was howling across Dublin Bay and my bed was warm and toastie. Professional to my fingertips, I went back to sleep. In the daylight all became clear. Slick didn’t die on page 18. He was the one who found the body. Boy, was I relieved. Boy, was I glad I hadn’t quit my snuggly bed to go on that wild goose chase.

So was my brain simply over-burdened, or was it the Cashel Blue cheese I’d snarfed down just before bedtime? We may never know.