A sudden whoop of delight shot up from downstairs this morning. James had just finished his novel SPHINX, his first work of science fiction. 940 handwritten pages are now assembled in a wooden wine box that fits them perfectly.

It's a huge thing, finishing a novel. We took a walk up our hill and had lunch in the local Chinese to help ease him back into the world. Now it's the afternooon and he's collapsed into a foetal position. Who knows what he'll wake up and do tomorrow, now his novel's done. Maybe dictate this current one into his computer, using his dragon software.

Coincidentally I finished a sci-fi story at exactly the same moment as he finished his sci-fi novel. I decided one must be lurking inside CROMOZONE somehow, and indeed one was. It wasn't a case of extracting a chapter or two, more of pulling the thread of one particular story out of the weave. Time for that story to go out into the world. I spent ninety minutes on the web this morning, investigating book festivals, preparing for my own getting out into the world.

Meanwhile the champagne is chilling for tonight. We writers should take every chance to celebrate. Here's to James's new novel!

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