I think I've been lollie-doodled into complacency by the news. Perhaps I am becoming numb to the dribble foaming from the anchors mouths. A military general gets sacked for calling the white house a shack full of wimps and BP still can't figure out how to screw a cap on an oil leak. Sure, I could rant on about these topics, but I have other silly stuff to do with my time, like write.
Yep, that's what I do, I make stuff up for a living. In between family visits and mountain adventure vacations I've managed to cram in a bit of writing and have roughly completed another novel, or is it a novella? Tonight I rewinded and added another chapter so the word count might have pushed the story over the edge into the novel category, but we'll see--I'm still toying with the length.
It's a dark, gritty noir full of lovable anti-heros. Now if I want the ending to convey my prolific meaning I must go find my Sisters of Mercy CD. Don't see the connection? Then you clearly have not enjoyed the lyrical musings of this 90's underground band.