Coyote and I write fiction in the mornings, for two or three hours.

Currently, I'm in the middle of two short stories. One very short and one normal length. I worked on both yesterday, writing about 3,000 words, which makes me very happy, and want to dance around and sing. 3,000 words--that's the equivalent of a whole short story, yo! But one of them is going to need considerable editing, certainly. So though there was great output, it's not going to matter when the next draft comes around.

Late yesterday morning I was working on writing my articles that are a significant source of income for me when Coyote texted to say he felt like grabbing burgers and did I want to come with? I met him at The Happy Hound, and there were cheeseburgers and fries and a chocolate malt. Coyote and I agreed that lunch was, in fact, certainly a significant source of our calories for the day.

After lunch, Coyote went back to work (he is a writer for a video game company), and I intended to go back to writing my articles, but ended up getting the oil changed in my car and some other maintenance-y type stuff done instead. But it was good--while my car was checked and poked and drained, I found the entry into a story I've been struggling with for almost two years. And it was yummy.

So last night there was sopita and black beans for dinner, a fire in the wood stove, and Coyote came down for more writing, which made for a fine evening, indeed.