I have two things of note this morning. The first and most basic is that, for the first time since Spring, I’m wearing a lousy sweatshirt out in the workshop where I do my writing. This is not good news. This means that my old friend Summer is fading, and that cold, damp cretin Fall is coming around for another
I Just wrapped a short story that will be published by New Mythology Press this fall. The process for this particular story really stands out for me. Since creating the realms on Pyranon, my imagination skips from character to character and to their places with in the different stories taking place at the same time. I’m no George Martin, for
I suppose I should clarify that headline. For, I suspect, most professional writers, the definition of projects has different meanings. For some, every writing deliverable is a project. For others, like myself, novels are pretty much all I consider to be my writing projects. Short stories and novelettes aren’t projects, they’re jobs. Right now, I find myself between the projects Paladin’s Light
For those who don’t know, I’m a rabid motorcycle enthusiast. I’ve been riding for over thirty years and have ridden just about every class of bike there is. Street bikes, cruisers, sport bikes, sport touring, touring, off-road, and a few in-betweens as well. I’ve ridden V-twins (inline and cross-mounted), inline threes and fours. I’ve ridden two, three, and four-wheelers. I
Greetings all I am home safely from a fantastic trip to Armistice. I’m so glad I went. For those who aren’t aware, Armistice was a replacement event for the largest SCA event around, Pennsic. It was held at the same site as Pennsic, Cooper’s Lake Campground in Slippery Rock, PA. There were about 1450 attendees where Pennsic has about 10,000.
I run. Or rather, I like to say that I run, but I probably jog. I have running shorts, running shirts, and running shoes. But I jog. There’s probably a speed threshold between jogging and running, and I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen beneath the required minutes-per-mile. I used to run. Once I could sustain nearly an eight-min-mile average over five
I bleached out the fountain in the front yard today. It had literally gone green with algae. Who knew that water recycled through two tiers of fancifully molded concrete would sprout day-glo green algae within a month? Who, I ask you? Okay, probably everybody who has ever owned a fountain. Or a pool. Or paid any attention to water. ….
A writer’s schedule is frequently a chaotic thing lacking definition. There’s always another project looming on the horizon. There’s the short story you owe this week, plus the novel you’re working on, plus the novel you want to get to next, and even the short story you owe next week or month. And sometimes those get switched around on the