I've been working on a children’s book lately (one of many WIPs bulging out of my bottom drawers). Massaging this story into shape seems to have punched the pulp out of my gobby self-denigrating thought provoking blogger self. What to do?
I didn’t want to write a half boring post on my go-to must-have all-time-fave sans-luminescent-sphere colour adapting tinted moisturizer - but it's Body Shop, All-In-One BB Cream in shade 02 if you're interested. Or how The H broke the Sky dish by throwing a large piece of carpet on it. True. Or how the cat pooed neatly on a towel in son 11's bedroom, then said towel was hung on the towel rail. NO.
Instead, I’m posting the first chapter of the aforementioned book. Critique it if you will. Nicely though, I have the skin of an old lady but the flesh of a ripe mango.
When I get this word-baby up to scratch I plan to publish it as an e-book and an audio book then sell the combo to my friends. You peeps out there with sons and daughters, nephews and nieces, friends and family members 10 years old and under. You have been warned.
Actually, sorry campers, I have removed the first chapter. Just decided to keep it under wraps. Take it to a higher papery place when it's ready. And it's not. So above is a pic of Spilt Milk softly sleeping - one very cool dog now the ripe old age of seventeen. Perspective.