Another Saturday Night

Well, it’s early afternoon in New Orleans. I’ve done my workout, run errands for both myself and Paul–including the always dreaded grocery run–and now am home, a bit worn out and needing to hop in the shower. The humidity is thick out there today, so thick I’ve already had to take a Claritin-D, and my kitchen is a mess and I have lots of laundry to do. I don’t think I’m going to do any writing today–my brain is tired; that may change later, one never knows–but I think I am going to just spend the rest of the day relaxing, reading, and slowly but surely getting the apartment straightened up and cleaned up and organized; the never-ending struggle not to live in a slovenly dump. Heavy heaving sigh. I also want to get back to reading About the Author, and select what I am going to read next (although I suspect, having gotten two anthologies in the mail–Storm Warning: Chesapeake Crimes and In Sunlight or In Shadow: Stories Inspired by the Paintings of Edward HopperI may just curl up with some exceptional short stories.

Stranger things have happened.

We got all caught up last night on both The Handmaid’s Tale (which continues to be incredibly gripping while horrifying) and The Mick, which is a truly demented sitcom we are enjoying tremendously. I’m not sure what we are going to watch tonight–we’ve started watching the new season of American Crime, which seems to be about migrant worker, sex trafficking, and the opiod addiction crisis, and it really looks really gripping and good; I am really sorry the show has been cancelled. We never did watch the first season, so we can also always go back and watch it, but it’s a shame. Then again, a highly intelligent show about crime that shows the same crime from many different perspectives, with all the necessary nuance and complexity, without clear cut villains and heroes–well, it was bound to not last long.

Okay, some time has passed, and I indeed curled up in my easy chair with About the Author, and finished it. It’s terrific, full of twists and turns and surprises; and the author, John Colapinto, did a most excellent job of making an extremely unlikable protagonist, well, likable. I can highly recommend it; it still holds up, even though it is nearly twenty years old–obviously, technology has moved on–but other than that, it is so well done and so well told that you don’t really notice that sort of thing. Most, most excellent. I am currently grilling hamburgers while reading Megan Abbott’s story, “Girlie Show”, in Lawrence Block’s Edward Hopper anthology; it is, thus far, quite sublime.

And now, I need to go flip the burgers.

Here’s a Saturday hunk for you.

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Last Friday Night

I had to fast after midnight until I had blood drawn this morning at nine a.m., which meant NO COFFEE until I was finished. Naturally, I brought a cup in a travel mug, and as soon as my arm was bandaged I started drinking it. I am still way behind in my daily caffeination, and as I have a strict no coffee after twelve rule, I have got to up my game.

Or I’ll be sluggish all day. And it is Friday.

Hmmm.

I also reschedule Wacky Russian to tomorrow morning, and I think I am going to see if I can just make Saturday our regular day rather than Wednesday; I hate getting up early on Wednesdays and I am going to be alternating late nights weekly on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so having an early morning workout on Wednesday just doesn’t work anymore. Nobody wants to be around a physically exhausted and sleepy Gregalicious. And if I work out at ten, then I’ll be awake and endorphined and ready to get shit done, plus that night  I’ll sleep really well. It really makes the most sense.

Yay for that!

Let’s just hope that it works out.

And next weekend is a three day weekend, which is absolutely lovely. So much to do, so little time, which is, as always, the story of my life. But I want to finish reading About the Author, not only because I want to see how it ends but because I want to move on to another book in the TBR pile; I am leaning towards the Pulitzer and Edgar award winning The Sympathizer, but there are so many others in the pile that are begging for my attention…and I was thinking it might even be nice to reread Mary Stewart’s Airs Above the Ground. I am enjoying The Affair of the Poisons, my current non-fiction read, as well. We have this week’s episode of The Handmaid’s Tale to watch, and we are also bingeing–and enjoying–The Mick on Netflix. There are some movies available for streaming now also that I want to see. Huzzah! Should be a lovely three day weekend….might even be a That’s Amore deep dish pizza kind of weekend!

It also pleases me to no end that I can fit into size 33 waist pants and shorts again. I may need to do a bit of reorganizing in my closet again…(a chore for the three day weekend) and the book purge is also going splendidly. Now I need to get back to writing…although I am still in the aftermath of having edited/revised a manuscript, which usually makes it harder to get back into writing again. I did do some work on my short story “Quiet Desperation” this week; being a total rewrite of the original draft, trying on another way of structuring and telling the story, which I am not entirely sure is working, but I am also getting some lovely ideas that maybe I can use in the final version of the story. It’s kind of cool, actually. Like I said, I am enjoying writing again, and am even enjoying the revising/editing that I usually despise.

Who fucking knew?

Okay, back to the spice mines.

Here’s a Friday hunk for you:

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All Right Now

Very tired today, but in a good way. Yesterday was a rather long day.

It started early in the morning with Wacky Russian and ended with bar testing late last night.  I had a pretty good workout yesterday. I’ve lost twelve or thirteen pounds since Mardi Gras, depending, and have about thirteen or fourteen more to go before I hit my goal weight of two hundred pounds. I can already see a difference in my face–I have dimples again, and it’s not as easy for my chin to disappear into my neck depending on how I hold/position my head as it used to be, which is lovely. I also can see a reduction in my middle–not quite as much as I would like, but definitely progress–and that’s also fine; it usually goes from everywhere else first anyway, so some progress is inspiring. This has all come about from a change in diet–reducing portions mostly, and not eating anything after eight pm–so if I can ever drag my lazy ass to the gym more than once per week,  I can get there even faster. And I don’t even have to do cardio. I can just do weights. I lost weight the first time (and the second time) without doing cardio at all; just from weight-lifting, so there is that.

Woo-hoo!

As Constant Reader may or may not know, I often struggle with self-image issues, and have all my life (being told, repeatedly, that I was dumb, fat and ugly as a child took its toll), and when I initially started going to gay bars and so forth, I was overweight and always wore my glasses. It was unpleasant, and after being told that I would basically never find anyone because I was fat and ugly (it was much worse than that brief recap, I might add) I decided that I could do something about my body, even if I couldn’t about my face. I transformed, and my life changed so much as a result I became a personal trainer, so I could help other people change their lives–and realize that it’s about being healthy, not being sexy, which was the mistake made. It’s a story for another time, really, but this made me want to write an Ugly Duckling transformation story, and when Kensington wanted me to do another fratboy book, I said yes–and decided this was the time to do it. As I wrote it, I called it beautiful, but Kensington wisely changed the title to Games Frat Boys Play, to further develop that brand, and it got the same style cover as the original.

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I didn’t think it was possible to get a better cover than the original, but I was wrong. I liked this one even more than the first!

I’d kind of wanted to do a Dangerous Liaisons kind of thing with the fraternity boys, but my editor wasn’t keen on that idea, so I went with an ‘ugly duckling’ story. I’ve always been a sucker for a revenge story (not sure what that says about me, frankly), and so I kind of patterned it after an old ABC Movie of the Week, written by Joan Rivers, called The Girl Most Likely To, which was Stockard Channing’s first big role on television or in film. The premise was her character was frumpy, overweight, and unattractive, but incredibly sweet if naive. She was also a genius. So when she went away to college, everyone treated her horribly, humiliation after humiliation, and then she was horribly humiliated in a terribly public way. In tears, she drives away from the campus and is in a terrible car accident, and winds up in a coma. She didn’t have her driver’s license on her, so they reconstructed her face based on her bone structure, and while she was in the coma she lost thirty pounds—so, she came out of the coma beautiful and thin–and unrecognizable. So, she goes back to the campus and gets even with everyone–killing them all in ingenious ways. I loved that story, and wanted to do something similar–but how to transform him in a very short period of time without using a coma?

Hmmmm. Finally, I realized that the only way the character could be naive and shy, or at least for me, to work would be if he had spent most of his life in private boarding schools…which meant he had to be filthy rich. I also decided to bracket the story around a police investigation, starting with a cop coming to talk to my main character at his apartment to find out what happened at the fraternity when someone was injured (possibly fatally; we don’t know that until after the main character finishes telling the cop his story). I created Jordy Valentine, a sweet, nerdy, incredibly smart kid whose father invented accounting software and made hundreds of millions, and sent Jordy to an exclusive, expensive boarding school in Switzerland, where he didn’t fit in and basically kept to himself. Jordy’s decision to attend CSU-Polk rather than Harvard or Yale or any of the other Ivys is because he wants to interact with more normal kids, have a normal college experience at least for a couple of years, and maybe learn how to be better with social interactions.  Jeff and Blair from Every Frat Boy Wants It live in the apartment across the hall from Jordy, and they’re the ones who convince him to rush Beta Kappa. The brothers aren’t particularly interested in Jordy as a pledge until they find out who his father is–and that he is, therefore, swimming in cash. He falls hard for handsome and sexy Chad, the bitchy rush chairman–and the story is off and running.

“This,” reflected police detective Joe Palladino, “is an awfully nice apartment complex for a college student to be living in. How the hell does he afford it?”

The Alhambra Apartments, he knew, started at a mere $1500 per month for a studio and went up–way up–from there. When they’d opened a few years earlier, his then boyfriend, Sean, had wanted to take a look at them. Joe had failed to see the point–there was no way they could afford the rents there, even with their combined incomes–but Sean had insisted, and it was easier to give in then to have an argument. And yes, the place was gorgeous–you had to be let in by security, and there were fountains and tennis courts and swimming pools conveniently placed throughout the complex. Each building had a laundry facility, and near the clubhouse was an on-site dry cleaner. There was even a fully equipped workout facility with state of the art equipment that put Joe’s gym to shame. The apartments themselves were large, full of light, and luxurious–but after the tour, Sean had pouted all night because they couldn’t afford to live there, as though it were somehow Joe’s fault. But everything had always been Joe’s fault, which was why he’d dumped Sean shortly after that. There was, after all, only so much complaining that anyone can put up with. Sean wanted everything but didn’t want to work for it–and Joe eventually tired of being compared to Sean’s previous, much older boyfriend and being found wanting. Sean was young and handsome–and so thought everything should be handed to him. He didn’t like having to work, and he didn’t like that Joe’s income wasn’t enough for him to live a life of luxury and idleness while being supported.

Like I said, the book was a lot of fun to write, and it’s still available as an ebook–and it still sells, all these years later, just like its predecessor.

And now, back to the spice mines.

 

Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing

I had a great workout this morning; the first time in a long time I can say that. Usually, I am so tired and brain-dead I just go through the motions, whining, but this morning, after some good sleep, I was wide awake and rarin’ to go, and also enjoyed it for the first time in a long time.  I didn’t sleep well Monday night; never fully going to sleep, spent most of the night in that horrible half-awake state, and was exhausted all day yesterday, which was a long work day for me culminating in a late night of bar testing. I also had trouble falling asleep last night, but I think I wound up with about five full hours of deep, restful sleep. I woke up before the alarm went off, but even that small amount of good sleep was what my body needed.

I don’t mind not getting eight hours, as long as I get some good sleep.

I was so tired yesterday I couldn’t focus, so of course, got nothing done that I needed to get done. That always sucks, of course, but I am hoping that with the rest, and the endorphin rush I have from working out, that I’ll be able to plough through a lot of things today. I want to finish reading Cleopatra’s Shadows, and then I am going to read Universal Harvester, by John Darnielle. I also am going to start restructuring the WIP, which is going to be probably an odious chore, but I am going to do that before I start the revision/editing process with it to get it ready. In an ideal world, it will be finished by the end of this month; in a realistic world more like the end of June. I also want to get the next draft of “Quiet Desperation” finished. (I have an idea for another story I’d like to get started, “In Lieu of Flowers”, so the sooner I can get the one finished, the sooner I can start working on the new one.)

I’m also thinking about the next book I want to write. I know, it’s crazy to start thinking about the next book I want to write while I am still working on the current WIP, but there are two I am toying with in my head–one would be called Girl X, the other You’re No Good–and I’ve had these ideas floating around in my head for quite some time now. (There are always lots of ideas percolating in my head at any time, in case you haven’t noticed by now.) So I am just going to brainstorm those whenever I get stuck on something else I am writing; both are, ironically, stories about the relationships between mothers and daughters–which is odd, since I am neither. But hey, what can I say?

Well, here’s a hump day hunk for you.

hump day hunk

 

Stoned Soul Picnic

In a bizarre blog twist, my entire entry about Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad, other than the opening paragraph, has completely disappeared from here, which is very strange. I don’t know how that could have happened; and it’s disappointing, as I made some very strong points about racism and the erasure of the brutality of slavery from our history. I did wonder why it, as opposed to so many of my other entries, wasn’t getting ‘likes’ by anyone, and now I know why–it’s not that it offended people, but rather that the entry is now simply, mostly gone.

How fucking annoying. And, of course, I always write the blog directly here, rather than using Word and cutting and pasting. So, it’s simply vanished into the ether, gone forever. Heavy heaving sigh. As for as writing losses go, it’s pretty low on the scale but at the same time…it hurts to lose any writing. Ever.

Heavy sigh.

I spent some more time reading Stephen King’s Finders Keepers yesterday between doing some cleaning (I never did get to the windows, but will today) and relaxing. I got caught up on Riverdale, ran some errands, cleaned the living room thoroughly (although I needed the ladder to do the ceiling fans and the windows, it was upstairs and so when I moved upstairs to I cleaned up there before bringing the ladder down, and by then I just wanted to relax and read), and did sit in my easy chair thinking about things I am working on. Today, I am going to do some straightening up around here, the windows and the ceiling fans in the living room, and I may finish cleaning upstairs. I don’t know, quite frankly; I am also feeling the lure of Finders Keepers, which I am really enjoying. It’s the middle book of his Bill Hodges trilogy, which began with the Edgar-winning Mr. Mercedes, which I also greatly enjoyed. I am almost halfway finished with the book, and King’s ability to create great characters the reader can understand and even empathize with, no matter how awful the characters may actually be, is on display here.

I also cleaned out some books for the donation pile, which is always a lovely start. I need to stop buying books, really, is what I need to do, but it’s a lifelong problem, and at almost fifty-six, I’m not sure I can effect behavior change anymore, but it’s certainly worth a try. I am also going to go to the gym later on today as well; and lift weights. If I go back to the old system–let’s face it, I am never going to motivate myself to do cardio–of what I did when I lost weight originally–go to the gym, do a full-body workout with more reps and lighter weights, and do some stretching–in addition to eating healthier, I should be able to get rid of that pesky fifteen pounds and get back down to 200. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get back to 180–my oddly shaped frame would make finding clothes that fit properly an issue (the ten pounds or so I’ve already lost has made all my pants too big in the waist, but they are still tight in the legs, and the small waist and big quads/hamstrings has always been an issue for me with pants), so I don’t know that I’d want to get back down that far. A flatter stomach and more definition is all I really want, anyway, so that I can at least get to the point where I don’t mind going to the beach, as I would really like to get tanned again. And going to the beach is always lovely, anyway.

Apparently it’s going to rain today, so doing the windows is out. Heavy sigh. It does look gloomy out there. There’s always next weekend.

Friday I am driving up to Montgomery for an appearance at the Alabama Book Festival, and driving back to New Orleans for a day before heading up to an event at the Sarah Isom Center for Women at Ole Miss in Oxford. I am very excited, if a bit nervous, to do both events. It’s so lovely having a new car so that I don’t have to worry about the driving, though. I love my new car; and almost three months after I bought it, it still has the new car smell.

I’ve also figured out how to revise “Quiet Desperation”, which is something I’d like to get to work on this week. My work schedule is sort of normal for the week, despite a late night on Thursday. As I start getting back into the groove of writing and rewriting, I am hoping to get a lot more done from now on. I also no longer have to get up ridiculously early for work on Tuesdays anymore–I don’t have to be at the office until 11 henceforth–which makes the week a bit more palatable for me; I won’t be tired and sleepy from Tuesday on anymore. Here’s hoping.

I want to kick my writing up a notch or two, push myself harder. Fingers crossed.

Here’s an Easter Sunday hunk for y’all.

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I Wish It Would Rain

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and it looks lovely outside. I may clean the windows today. I have to get the mail, pick up some prescriptions, make a grocery run, and I also want to get the car washed, and of course, as always, there is laundry to do. I also want to spend some time reading today, and cleaning the kitchen and living room. Yes, I am feeling rather ambitious today; we shall see how it turns out.

I forgot my book (The Nest) at the office on Thursday night; I worked at the other office yesterday and it’s French Quarter Fest, so getting down to Frenchmen Street would be a nightmare and would make me tired and cranky, so I decided to just start reading another book–Ben H. Winters’ Underground Airlines, recently named a Thriller Award nominee for Best Novel. I’d always intended to read The Underground Railroad and Underground Airlines back-to-back for comparison sake; I forgot and started reading something else when I finished reading the Whitehead. The Winters book was controversial when it was released; it, like the Whitehead, is sort of magical realism/alternate history; Winters’ premise is that the Civil War was never fought as yet another slave-owner appeasement compromise was reached in 1860 that prevented secession and the war; and other compromises were reached over the years since. It’s an interesting concept, and at the time the book was released there was some controversy; the main character is a free man of color who works as a slave-catcher. I’m not very far into it, but it’s well-written and I’m enjoying it thus far.

I also got a lot of work done on “Quiet Desperation” this week; the story is now well over four thousand words. I stopped working on it the other day (Thursday, to be exact) because I felt that I was getting impatient and rushing the ending, so I decided to pull back from it for a few days and then get back to it over this weekend. I also think the story may have meandered a bit. The goal is to finish it and the chapter of the new Scotty I’ve been working on, so I can really get going on both the Scotty book and another short story next week. Ambitious goals, yes, but do-able.

And I want to get to the gym tomorrow morning.

A truly ambitious plan for the weekend, no?

We’ll see how it all works out, won’t we?

Here’s a hunk to see you through your Saturday.

Turn Around, Look At Me

Well, in perhaps the most exciting news (at least for me) of the week thus far, I actually wrote fiction yesterday.

Hurray!

I think writing that essay finally on Monday flexed the atrophying writing muscles, because yesterday I opened my document of “Quiet Desperation” and wrote well over fifteen hundred words in a very short period of time, until I was interrupted. Of course, once interrupted the flow stopped–which is why interruptions annoy me so very much. I might have even finished the story had I not gotten interrupted…but the great thing is that in writing so much on it today, I also was able to figure out how to finish it and what the core of the story is; what I am trying to say. Whether I will succeed or not remains to be seen–but it’s yet another one of those stories about a writer. I’m not sure why I keep writing these stories about writers, but it’s also what I suppose I know the best. But I like the direction “Quiet Desperation” is taking, and I’m also enjoying working on Scotty again–I also managed over a thousand words on the new book yesterday, which made me feel terrific. Even after all the writing I’ve done over the years, when you hit a fallow stretch or period, when you don’t feel like writing, or you do and you can’t, there’s always this terror that the well has, indeed, finally run dry; followed by constant self-reassurances that always ring hollow–because the only thing that can make that terror go away is actually writing something.

So, thank you, Sisters in Crime, for kicking me in the ass and getting me to write that overdue essay. I think I’m over the hump now–and I am really looking forward to writing today.

I am tired, though. Wacky Russian basically made me do legs today, the bitch, and so even though my legs are usually fried from the small leg workout I get every time, today they are particularly tired and sore, the bastard. That’s okay, though. I think I am going to go in on Saturday and do legs on my own, some cardio and maybe some stretching. I need to get in better physical condition.

And since it’s Wednesday, here’s a Hump Day Hunk for you as I head back into the spice mines.

Tighten Up

Ah, reality officially slapped me in the face this morning. Yesterday–while my first day back in the real world–I was still kind of in the Festival Bubble; reality didn’t seem quite real. Getting up at six this morning to come to work for a twelve hour day? Shit got real. I should have gone to bed at ten last night; instead I waited until eleven, which wasn’t the smart thing to do. I am not sleepy this morning, nor am I tired, but I am also not completely awake, either.

Heavy heaving sigh. I suppose tonight I shall have to try to go to bed early, and break this cycle once and for all.

There are, of course, worse things.

I am hoping to have a productive week, and next week I am hoping that I am going to start my increased and enhanced workouts at the gym as I attempt to get myself back into tip-top physical condition. I also intend to make a dentist appointment, get my bloodwork done, and see about getting another eye appointment; I feel like I already can’t see as well with the glasses I bought last year, which is endlessly annoying. Only this time, I think I am going to get a prescription for contact lenses–progressive ones, at that–because I can always get the prescription refilled at Costco after I exhaust my vision benefits. Work. That. System.

This week I want to edit three chapters of my secret project, write two chapters of the new Scotty, and finish two short stories–at least the first drafts. A friend of mine suggested to me this past weekend that I should put together a collection of my dark stories–crime and horror–and you know, I think I might actually have enough stories already to pull together as a collection, plus might have to write a couple of new ones. It’s a worthwhile project, methinks, to try to pull together. And I do like to write short stories, I just don’t think I’m very good at them–they certainly are harder for me (in a different way) than writing novels. The two stories I am working on are “The Terrortorium” (which was originally “Happyland”, but I really disliked that title) and “Quiet Desperation.” (Of course, the first is a rewrite and the second is an entirely new story, ergo–more fun to work on, and more difficult, but in a different way.)

I find myself writing, or at least thinking about writing, about writers more frequently these days. I’ve tried to avoid that trope (although Stephen King has written about writers a lot, and has done so extremely well) for most of my career, but I find myself going that way more and more lately. It’s something I am incredibly familiar with, for one thing, and I also know a lot of writers (not that I want to write about people I know, of course). I think the first time I wrote about a writer was in my short story “Annunciation Shotgun,” and since then I’ve kind of created a writer character who’s kind of a stand-in for me in some ways; he was the narrator of my story “An Arrow for Sebastian,” and I kind of used him again in both The Orion Mask and Garden District Gothic (Jerry Channing is his name). I find myself sometimes thinking about short stories and novels about writers, and I default to him…I even have an idea for a stand-alone novel about him. So…we shall see. Even “Quiet Desperation” is about a writer–although most definitely not Jerry.

Not sure what that’s all about, but there you have it.

And now, back to the spice mines.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I worked late last night, and despite being tired, I wasn’t able to sleep until much later than I’d have liked, and as such I overslept this morning. Which, of course, has now thoroughly screwed up my sleep schedule. This is frustrating, because I’d reset my body clock to go to bed early and wake up early; this was in preparation to start going to the gym in the mornings before work starting next week.

Well, I suppose it’s okay; this weekend was going to screw it up anyway.

I have some errands to do today before heading down to the Quarter; some neatening and straightening of the Lost Apartment (the work being done on the upstairs is finally finished, so things can be put back the way they are supposed to be). I also am going to the Riverwalk Outlet mall to buy a new outfit for tonight’s parties (a little treat to myself), but I don’t feel awake and energetic the way I did when I was waking up early this week. Very annoying.

But last night I did start writing my story “Quiet Desperation” in my head, which is a good thing. It’s a great idea, and now having the right tone for it…well, that’s just perfect, you know? Finding the right voice for a story is everything. (I think I actually got the voice for “The Terrortorium” right yesterday, as well. Whew. Such a relief.)

I also have to got to Costco at some point; maybe Sunday morning, maybe Monday before work. We shall see.

All right I need to get a move on, take my vitamins, eat some breakfast, get cleaned up, pack some shit for the weekend. I doubt I’ll be checking in much over the weekend, everyone, so if not…see you on the other side.

Here’s a pair of hunks to slip you into the weekend.

Sunshine of Your Love

Wednesday! The week is almost half over!

Well, more than half for me, since I am taking Friday off. I dropped Paul off at the Monteleone this morning–it’s not like him not being home is going to be different, I’ve barely seen him these last few weeks anyway–on my way into the office and am still riding a bit high on the endorphins triggered by my workout with Wacky Russian this morning. I slept really well last night–I even went to bed at nine thirty (!) because I didn’t feel so well…and woke up only twice throughout the night before going back to bed. It was kind of awesome, actually; I’ve been sleeping so well this week that I hope this continues. After the TWFest/S&S weekend, I am going to commit to continue to eat healthy (I’ve lost nine pounds so far since Carnival) and make it to the gym a few more times a week. It just means going to be earlier and getting up earlier. Without Paul being home at night this week I’ve been able to get to bed early; once this is all over again I am going to commit to working out more frequently as well as continuing to eat healthier with a goal of being between 190-200 pounds by Labor Day weekend. As I am now at 216 or so, I should think I would be able to do this with a concerted effort over the summer.

It can be done. It can. And it will. It must.

Of course, this means none of my clothes will fit, but hey. There are worse things. And my pants are already too big from the weight loss I’ve managed so far.

I also need to take advantage of the massage gift certificate Paul gave me for Christmas.

The writing hasn’t been going that well this week, at least not so far. I got some disappointing news yesterday about a project I was very excited about, but these things happen. You can’t take them personally, but when you’re already having a bad writing week having something fall through due to no fault of your own–and frankly, I do think there was some shady shit going on there–it can create a spiral. I feel better today about things, frankly, and ready to get some work done. I am going to do some editing and maybe some brainstorming with the Scotty book–it needs some more thought before I can really get it going–and work on that pesky other short story. I may even edit one of my others and submit it somewhere. Why the fuck not?

And on that note, I am going to get back to the spice mines.

Here’s a Hump Day hunk for you, CR.