A tornado watch bears down upon my dog, Frank and I as we all three wait to see what damage the furious skies will wrought.
Beating at the windows with a million bullets of rain, the storm descends and swallows our small townhouse whole.
The air is yellow, my heartbeat red.
We three curl upon the couch and wait for the end to either claim us or free us from this day.
Yeah, well, that right there is an instance of WTF?
If I was being particularly crude I’d say it was even an instance of the rare “What the fuckery fuck?”
It’s not been an especially good mental health day around here, but that’s really no excuse for that mess up there. Really, I’d blame the crap on my friendly neighborhood specter of imminent failure (Frank) if I thought I could get away with it, but seeing as Frank isn’t corporeal I’m not thinking typing on a keyboard is a strong possibility…
Of course, I could be wrong.
And if I am wrong…
“Blame the ghostwriter! Blame the ghostwriter!”
*giggles into a messy ball of mirth*
Ok, I needed that.
I’m quite sure you didn’t, however, so I apologize.
Shall we bullet point the rest of this blog so at least one of us gets out of here with a scrap of sanity still intact?
*a roaring “Pretty please!” slips in between the beats of thunder*
Alrighty-then, here you go…
-No work was done on Book Two of “The Lion and the Steed” series today. However, the last few nights I’ve been able to slip in my required word count right before bedtime. This is an oddity I’m sure won’t last the week.
-No word on Writhe was had. It’s 5pm here on the east coast so there’s still a couple of work hours left for those in the publishing biz, so I wouldn’t count out a late goodie from Ravenous Romance just yet.
-The hypothesis that a writer can drown themselves in research has been proven not true. If my day of obsessive studying of late 18th century fashion didn’t do me in then no research will. It was brutal, folks… but worrisomely interesting, too. Should I be frightened? *lol*