I look out the window at the storm-wracked forest beyond the rainsoaked fields and long for Spring.
My personal “writing place” is my garden patio in the sunshine with rock music on my headphones and coffee within reach. Sitting in my attic office with artificial lighting to compensate for the all-day, gray-sky dullness outside is not even a poor second best.
Ah, well. As the poet said, “If February won’t March, April May.”
So I turn my eyes from the gray day and close my ears to the swelling storm. I plunge into my galactic empire origin story, redrafting and redrafting, sprinkling added spice and sparkle as I go. As ever, I am so grateful for an eager and eagle-eyed critique group and a developmental editor who deserves whatever award such demons of the red pen are given.
Oh, it’s a writer’s life for me!
My wife’s about to return from her annual trip to Thailand, so I have to scurry about getting the house tidy tomorrow, all the while hoping she brings a low temperature home with her. I try not to think about the horror spreading across China and out from its borders and airports.
I have another bargain bundle of books to draw your attention to. And if you have no one to gift them to on Valentine’s Day this year, gift a few to yourself! In fact, why not gift more than a few? (Click the image for the full display.)