There's just a thin miscalculation of the home row
between flash fiction and slash fiction. You Have Been Warned.
Did the 3.7 mile walk last night, despite summer having arrived in Southern Nevada, a/k/a Hell. May make an attempt at yoga today, if I am not too sleepy. (Did not sleep much last night.)
Wow, I have a laundry list of things to do today; I have packages to put together and mail for various people, I need to buy a new printer (The little HP was not meant for the sort of tree-murdering abuse it gets at my hands, alas), and I have one crit to type up and consider a little more, and two more to do, and I have to write the next scene in Worldwired. The good news is, I know what happens in this cene, and the next one, and probably even the two after that. The book is developing momentum, which is good, because I'd hate to crash into the 35-K Wall without some force behind me.
Because the Dreaded Middle Of The Book is on the other side of the 35-K Wall, and if you're not rolling when you hit that point, it's a wearying slog. Amen.
In other news, I'm 32 years old, and warts are still kind of grossly cool.
Did the 3.7 mile walk last night, despite summer having arrived in Southern Nevada, a/k/a Hell. May make an attempt at yoga today, if I am not too sleepy. (Did not sleep much last night.)
Wow, I have a laundry list of things to do today; I have packages to put together and mail for various people, I need to buy a new printer (The little HP was not meant for the sort of tree-murdering abuse it gets at my hands, alas), and I have one crit to type up and consider a little more, and two more to do, and I have to write the next scene in Worldwired. The good news is, I know what happens in this cene, and the next one, and probably even the two after that. The book is developing momentum, which is good, because I'd hate to crash into the 35-K Wall without some force behind me.
Because the Dreaded Middle Of The Book is on the other side of the 35-K Wall, and if you're not rolling when you hit that point, it's a wearying slog. Amen.
In other news, I'm 32 years old, and warts are still kind of grossly cool.