I can’t believe it’s Sunday evening once more. The week has been a bit of a routinish one, and the ‘roll’ I was one as far as pen to paper is concerned has run away an hid behind a tree.
The Agnes Ross yarn is nearing its final third on the road to completion; character names have been huge issue as pinning them to specific historical incidents, and being geographically accurate has become tricky to the point of tedious.
For those that have had a look at the work(ish) blog, will note that everything has become exceedingly gruesome, yet specific to varying degree’s of mental illness. The illnesses described are the real thing, and sadly people live with them, the illness suffered by Watson is a reality still.; from paranoid schizophrenia stemmed from narcissism, and the reflected image of himself is not the one he see’s, rather the face of another.
Anyway, historic fiction, a bit gorey, but a tale with, what I believe anyway, to be a good twist.
Anyway, ’tis the hour one must crawl into one’s pit for the night; do click upon the elegant lass of ink.