Tweaking and tinkering, fiddling and finessing, I’m enjoying the stuffing out of spinning misspent drafts into gold.

Well, ‘gold’ might be a stretch.

Anyhow, I’m re-fashioning an unsold romance into something, um, more?

What that ‘more’ might be, I haven’t a clue. But just being back in the old fiction workshop is a joy (and a relief to my old clunker of a brain that’s been idling in the garage much too long.)

Bottom line: Direction doesn’t matter. Movement does.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe