Masters tales

Deadlines…

I thought I would be happy to get rid of deadlines once I was finished with university (my dissertation is in the printers…). But I’m not. Instead I have put in place a whole load of deadlines. Not only my own but also for competitions…

At the moment I’m working on a piece based on Shakespeare that has got to make it to the magazine by tomorrow! I only found the competition yesterday and I thought… Hmmm… Why not rewrite Othello in 3000 words and update it?

Bitten off more than I can chew? Oh yes.

Thoroughly enjoying it? Amazingly and most definitely, yes.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop with deadlines. I just work well when they are there. I just hope I am strong enough to keep to my self-imposed ones.

I’ve popped an extract of The Moor below:

“But what do you see in him?”

“What don’t you?” Donna asked, looking up from the computer.

Cate just curled her lip. “He’s old.”

Donna smiled and pushed her chair slightly away from the desk. “A little.”

“Not just a little… It’s got to be over ten years.” Cate stood by the window looking out on the park below. Donna sometimes wondered if Cate was such a good friend because of the view. In the publishing house this office had the best window, but it was pokey. In fact, as she saw Philip striding toward them she sighed. With three of them in the room it would feel almost claustrophobic. Swivelling her chair to face away from the door Donna looked at the books in front of her. All published by the house she worked for. When she had started the floor to ceiling shelving had been only half full. Now she was looking at removing some to make room for the newest arrivals. It wasn’t just her work though. There were sixteen editors working in the one house. But she had The Moor’s work in her portfolio.

She doubted they would have met if it weren’t for her job. “About ten years, but I don’t care. He is… mine.” She turned and smiled at Cate.

Cate shook her head and would have said more but Philip pushed his way into the room. The glass partitioning meant that she ought to have seen him but she was so preoccupied trying to work out if her friend had lost her mind that she jumped at his arrival.

“He would like to meet you tonight,” Philip said, and then stood silent in front of her.

Donna nodded a greeting. “What time?”

“About eight.”

“Let him know I’ll be there.”

Philip gave no expression but turned and left.

This post has been inspired by the daily prompt – the heat is on

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