HELP. Oh, ye gods and tiny fishes, help. If I have ever sent you a draft of anything I've written, I need need need for you to send a copy back to me. My storage drive has been confirmed dead like Dickens' Marley, and this means I have lost everything I've written.

Ditto photographs.

Dammit. Damn, damn, damn.

Breaking into publishing, seventyish words at a time.