It just keeps raining and raining and raining around here, today is no exception, and I’ve lost five writing days that should have gone into my current book, Ozias, Prince in Peril.
No, I can’t write fantasy fiction indoors. I need fresh air, birds, squirrels, grass, wildflowers, bees. I need trees, too, but they’ve cut them all down around here. To get into the right frame of mind, I have to cut myself off from 21st-century distractions.
Maybe the sun will come out. I have more blog posts to write. I have to write a column for Newswithviews. I have to go pick up the laundry. Maybe by the time I get it all done, the sun will be out again. It’s had six out of the last seven days off. What is this–Seattle?