Everything continues to hang in a state of flux around here, no longer stable in its old form, but not quite coalescing into something new either.

Here's the best way to put it. For Cloaked in Shadow, I need to return the contracts with a 200 word author bio. You know the sort: Bob Smith lives in New Orleans with his third wife Mitzi and a dachshund named Spike. When not writing fantasy stories he works as ballast on a Mississippi river barge and dabbles in radical politics.

Well, I'm trying to write it and realizing that there's very little of that stuff I expect to still be true by the time this thing comes out in the middle of next year. It's all in the box and who knows what will be in there when I finally manage to open it up. (Okay, I'm pretty confident about the wife, but everything else is up for grabs.)

Ironically enough, given my title here, the cat is the one thing not in question anymore. My longtime companion, Max the one-eyed pirate cat, died yesterday. Lengthy eulogy here.

Well, things should start shaking out before too much longer. Maybe I'll even hear about Path of the Bold. And the other stuff is groping toward at least a clear path forward if one with a few gaps to be minded.

Sure could have done without losing the cat though.