So I know I should be posting that long delayed wrap-up of RWA and pictures and stuff, but, honest, I just can’t make myself blog. I have less than a month before classes start, and I want to get as much writing done as I can before they start filling…
The dyehouse is downwind of every other building, but its location does little to diffuse its smell. The building is squat and dark and windowless. Its roof is pierced with chimneys, like arrows sticking out of Saint Sebastian’s chest. The air around it is soaked in the moist, acrid stench…
I should be all aglow with happiness–the final version of Like a Thief in the Night is turned in, and the excerpt is up on the Samhain site. Instead, all I see are things I want to change. I can’t help it, I’m a fiddler. I nitpick. I tweak. Editor…
Can’t talk. Writing. In the mean time, please enjoy this photo of the palm tree in our back yard. It used to be rather scary and disreputable-looking. There were likely all manner of yucky little creatures living in its beard of dead fronds. But we got it trimmed–a palm tree…
