The sun is back today, and so is the cold.

Happy Turkey Day. If you count from the Lincoln Proclamation of November 1863, this is the 150th American Thanksgiving Day. That's a lotta dead birds. Tasty dead birds ( Read more... )

Oddly warm today. Presently 62˚F, but with pouring, wind-driven rain, so it's not as if we can enjoy the oddly warm weather. And tomorrow the cold is returning, with temperatures in the thirties ( Read more... )

What a fine day it will be when bacon is no longer the new black. And when cupcakes are no longer the new pink.

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I'm not going to say what yesterday was spent doing, until after today is spent doing it again.

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There were really only two work-type things yesterday. My editor and I have chosen the artist for the third Alabaster miniseries. ( Read more... )

Here in sunny Providence, it's 43˚F, but the sun has it feeling like 52˚F. Just don't step into a shadow.

Today, I have to see my shrink. She listens to me, and she gives me pills.

Yesterday I wrote 1,343 words on the fourth chapter of Cherry Bomb. Then I began a new piece for Sirenia Digest, "Words Written Backwards," and wrote another 1,081 ( Read more... )

Cold here. Currently, it's 36˚F in Providence, though the temperature feels like 26˚F. Sunny ( Read more... )

This spate of insomnia appears to have no intention of ever letting go of me. Last night was especially difficult. I lay awake. I lay awake and thought the sorts of thoughts I should not think even when I am awake. I lay awake and worked out, down to lines of dialogue, the first bit of The Dinosaurs of Mars. Then I worked out the opening of the ( Read more... )

Warmer yesterday and today. Sun and temperatures in the high fifties, low sixties Fahrenheit. It won't last, but then what ever does.

Day before yesterday, I wrote 1,112 words on the third chapter of Cherry Bomb. But then there was a night of extra-special insomnia, and I only managed write 706 words yesterday. As it stands, I have ~39,676 words ( Read more... )

Cold, cold, cold. But a smudge less cold than yesterday, and the sun is out. Cold sun. Cold sky, but at least a few clouds to hide its taste for me. I have not left the house since Saturday.

I wrote nothing on Cherry Bomb. Frankly, I'm having trouble remembering what I did. There was a meeting with my Dark Horse editor (3 p.m. CaST), and that went ( Read more... )

Belatedly, because there was no sleep until after seventy-third ayem ( Read more... )

Last night, Barb Moermond sent me and Spooky this photograph (which I don't feel like putting behind a cut):


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