Wow, okay, another month has gone by without my permission. Damn you and your teenage rebellion, Time. Don’t even think of asking to borrow the car.

To recap…

Last week:
A blur of suits and PowerPoint.

The week before:
I was in Wales with the Milford Writers’ Group, about which I can only rave: gorgeous scenery; lovely prose; friendly, clever people with useful things to say. And then there was the simple fact of spending an uninterrupted week in Writer Identity. Just being able to step away from the professional split personality for a while was a relief. And being without cell phone reception (unless I climbed up a hill) or internet access (unless I found time to borrow the office computer, which I did once, and only long enough to see I had two hundred e-mails, many of them related to Viagra) was nice if disconcerting change.

I spent most of my time reading, critiquing, and chatting, although after receiving my crit I was inspired to add some new material to the novel…maybe. It’s in a separate file, still under quarantine before it’s allowed to come into contact with the rest of the book. The following day I spent a few hours working on “Where the Time Goes”, and finally got the ending sorted out. It turned out to be ridiculously simple, I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before. But I’m mostly just glad to have it done. I’ve got a few more scenes to polish, then I’ll pop it in the mail.

Previous weeks:
A blur of suits and PowerPoint.