My head has been down recently for much typing and the novel has progressed accordingly.  I've been avoiding all of the flashy distractions of competitions and, er updating this blog and the word count has increased accordingly.

Funny how we all need these little motivations.  20k was a big milestone - I hit that this weekend and it prompted a celebration out of all proportion to the scale of achievement.  Because in the grand scale of things, it's not much (especially when on the same day, an interview with Ian Rankin casually revealed that he knocked out a first draft in around 6 weeks).  

From childhood, we respond to praise, long after we are considered too old for direct bribes of sweets.  As adults, we seek affirmation, retweets, 'likes' and comments.  But I hope we are also becoming more sensitive to the fact that what may be important to us is unlikely to be that important to anyone else, so yes, you may think you are very clever, but don't go shouting about it.  So, I tweeted my 20k and then got down to write some more, because that is the real danger: that in celebrating the milestones, we lose sight of the end goal.

This story is about success in one way - something that can survive almost anywhere...

They pushed aside paving stones, weakening walls by picking away at the mortar.  They loitered on the lawn, loud, brash and unmissable.  It was dandelion season.