Wait, how did it become 11pm? I was just about to go downstairs and have a cup of tea and some Petite Ecolier cookies, but now it’s bedtime and all my plans have come to naught! 11pm, you see, has become the magic hour in which Phil goes to bed and lays his head down on his pillow and waits in the dark for something to happen. Inevitably nothing does, and I fall asleep around 1am, but still, like Confucius said, it’s the journey that matters, not the destination. I’m not quite sure I believe him, however.

Either way – yes. Blogging. In Which The Author Expounds on the Divers Dangers Inherent in the Field of Research. Especially when pertaining to a new book. See, the problem with researching something that is still very much in the conceptual phase is that the idea mutates, grows, changes, leaps off into new directions. And each permuation and twist is accompanied by a sense of exhiliration. Yes! This is brilliant! A novel in which a Tony Soprano like necromancer rules a swathe of some great American city. Ah, let me download every Soprano episode ever made, and buy some text books on organized crime and police procedure. But wait–police precedure is strangely fascinating. How about a detective instead, investigating a massively corrupt police department and city? Like an old, grizzled Wolverine type, in a Sin City styled city? Brilliant! But wait wait wait–what if… huh. China Mieville. Perdido Street Station. A fantasy city. What if instead I had the detective in a fictional, fantasy metropolis? Modelled on… Ancient Rome! Sixth century Rome, to be precise, after the Empire has fallen. With some 11th century Byzantium thrown in for flavoring. A decadent, sprawling city of menace and magic. And forget the detective–back with the Soprano necromancer!
See how it jumps around? And if each jump, each twist, is accompanied by excited book purchases… well. Danger, Will Robinson, danger. 
Though, on the upside, I do tend to learn all sorts of random things in the process. Which is hardly a bad thing, now, is it?