I had another night of nightmares, blending memories and strange images. January is always like this. And sometimes the first week of February. These were worse from the previous one I wrote about and I'm not certain I can talk about them here yet. I haven't quite stopped shaking all day long. It was about the moment that I realized that I had never really had a family. Twenty years ago Mama died, Papa was already gone two years earlier. They left me everything, including a house. She wasn't gone a week before all the relatives who had been perceived as nice and kind before descended upon me, not like locusts, but like lions to rip me to shreds in a group going even so far as to cut the breaklines on my car and lock me up as being crazy. It's as well they don't know where to find me.

Mickey kept telling me that I "owed her" a child, so I've always believed that she intended to steal DAvid as well, but it didn't happen. You know, take everything including the kid.

I did finish the final draft of the four book in my quartet. Now I have some new ones to start on and I'm hoping that will get my head working fast and furious enough for me to stop thinking about all the ugliness. I'd like for the nightmares to retreat again.

One of the things that makes me very productive as a writer is that by writing I'm trying to run fast enough to escape the nightmares, the dreams, memories, and flashbacks. The more intensely I focus upon my writing the more I blank out on the rest of it. It's a good thing to do. It fills up the silences, because the bad things only come out during the silences.

Next projects include a YA and a novel featuring the character from my published short fiction. I'm also considering writing a post apocalypse type story set on a distant world.