A peculiar bubble: no news, the television is blank and silent. No linkage and furious words, I have not visited the infoscape today. No newspapers, magazines, or radio. No nothing! I...am...safe as houses in my house. Cold and damp out. Pea is across the hall in her office, wrestlings with freelance issues. I'm here in mine, cutting the crap out of an eight-year-old prototype novel. Bob the Cat is downstairs, being fat and having a good cat's life.
Gosh! I am reasonably content. I mean, except for the lack of several published novels and a Hugo Award.
Whodda thunk it?
And now: back to the grind...cut, rewrite, write anew, break for coffee, and so on. Onward and upwards!
