Every writer must be a bit of a cadaver dog.

Once an emotional crash-up is over an author must plod back into the disaster area and sniff out the recoverables. You know, what experiences and feelings can be re-used in their fiction.

It’s a dirty, unpleasant job and it stinks.

Currently I’m holding my nose and sifting through mental unspeakables left from the car accident.

So far, not a salvageable ping of emotion has been found for my Cozy Mystery.

But I keep looking in spite of the stench.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe