There are sometimes that writing is an act of blind faith. You have to believe that at some point, you are going to be able to make something out of it. Normally the first draft feels like a pile of poo to the author until you reach a certain point and you think -- ah yes, there is something here after all. Maybe I can write.
That point appears to be have been reached for my latest one over the weekend. I KNOW that when all is said and done, and I have executed my editors' thoughts that this is going to be good. It shows faint glimmerings. It is getting fun to write, always a good sign.
In duck news, one of the younger ducks managed to wrap some of the netting around its neck. Luckily my eldest and I were returning from a walk and had come in at the top gate. How the silly duck had done it, I don't know. The netting was wrapped about 20 times around its throat. My son ran to get the scissors and we cut it loose. We also took the opportunity to cut its primary feathers. It went quacking off to join the others, seemingly unruffled by its dice with death.
Unfortunately the netting has to remain as the Maran like jumping into the vegetable patch for a quick bite to eat. It has, however, been rendered less interesting to ducks...