can tell when I've suddenly got writerly commitments, or the homestead is undergoing renovations. This place suddenly grows deathly quiet.
Well, my commitments are nearly done. My novella has some sort of through line, the bathroom is nearly finished, and there's a little space in my skull for my dear little blog. Look at the poor little fellow, as sketched on this dog chewed post-it-note, has to use a rope for a belt.
Doesn't look too steady on his feet - it's all that red wine.
I'm already gearing up for next year, once everything is put to bed, I'm dying, just dying, to get onto something(s) new.