A wet, dismal day. The sort of endlessly grey day that imbues this apartment's hideous grey walls with the power to devour light and makes me wish doom upon whatever asshole painted them such a color. Our high was 77˚F, with a heat index of 78˚F ( Read more... )

So, even though there is absolutely no time for being sick, I'm sick. Hard to tell yet just how sick, but sick enough. It started off yesterday morning as a scratchy throat. Thing is, Spooky's been sick for almost a week, and every time I'd ask her about it, she'd tell me it was just allergies caused by the dust we're stirring up packing. To me, ( Read more... )

I would think that by just about any sane measure, I would count as a very prolific writer. At times, somewhat too prolific for my own good. And with this in mind, it seems inevitable that there will be these dry spells. These times where I sit and stare at the keyboard until I must either find some suitable diversion, some work substitute, or ( Read more... )

Yesterday I did "only" 1,528 words, and I felt guilty for not having written more. But I made my goal, and the Word Bank even gained 28 words. Also, we proofed the galleys of "Zero Summer" for Subterranean Magazine #6. And then there were e-mails and phone calls. And I finally crawled away down the hall and hid in a tub of very hot water ( Read more... )