Man, what a crazy, crappy week! That always seems to happen after a nice week off in which I didn't have to deal with the real world. The real world gets its vengeance.

I was slammed at the day job all week, and I was dying to sit down and get some writing done, but there just wasn't time. There's nothing worse than that feeling -- if there's a hell for writers, it would be to be surrounded by all their projects, unfinished, but they can't get off the infernal treadmill long enough to do more than glance at the opening paragraph. Then it's back to running running running, getting nowhere.

Okay, all melodrama aside, I think I'm recovering from this hectic week. I'm WAH today (Working at Home), which helps immensely. I can get all my stuff done for work without messing with the commute (or showering) and still get some of my own writing projects done. And since Elizabeth is home now for the time being, she and I can have lunch together and hang out on my "coffee breaks." I like WAH!

And today is already starting out nicely -- after two and a half mugs of coffee, I've already banged out 700 words on the collaboration I'm doing with the Jay (the Great) Lake, about suicidal witches and corrupt princes. It's great fun, and I've been dying to get cracking on the story. I've ignited a couple hamsters and sent them back to Jay to juggle. Woo-woo!

And I'm hoping to have some time to finally get back to work on The Wannoshay Cycle, entering in my hand-written stuff from last week and working in a lot of Lizzie's fine suggestions.

Finally, it's looking like I should have Intracities one step closer to being printed and assembled, which was another stresser this week. Once that's done, I'll be a truly happy camper -- I like editing and selecting stories MUCH better than putting together the actual book. And then I'll be ready to party at World Fantasy Con, where more and more cool folks are planning to attend (Hi Jenn!). It's gonna be a blast. You must attend. Later...

Now Playing:
"Bramble Rose," Tift Merritt

Now Reading:
The Scar, China Mieville

Stories out to Publishers:
15

Today's Words:
700, so far

Words for '03:
111,000

Today's Quote:
We sauntered through the foothills, the cats padding silently through and around the gathered refuse of the terraced land. The slaves and laborers from Killaster had agreed, many years before my birth or my mother's, that the Scorched Hills would be the land's dumping grounds. I closed my nostrils as best I could, maintaining the closure of my ears to Rega's panting words.

We were half-way through the Hills, Rega's cat simpering with pain from the multiple cuts on its paws from the rusting metal and broken glass embedded in the uneven ground, when we saw the first sign of the priest-engineers' workings.