Susan, you hung out in Bristol? Do you have any memories of Bruton, by any blessed chance?

No--sorry.

Deb, I have a friend who lives in Bristol. If you have specific questions you'd like me to ask her, I would be glad to. Just email me.

Woot! Thanks, Cindy. Of course, depending on what/if the offer Ruth makes on the proposal, I may never need it. But the projected fifth book is based on the song Bruton Town, and the entire Bath/Bristol neck of the woods is a bit northeast of my old holiday haunts, when I lived in London. We used to head for Cornwall.

Deb, she's only lived there for a couple of years, although her partner has lived there longer. She was in school in Cheshire (Chester) before that, and I think her folks now live in Kent.

When I saw Susan's response, it dawned on me you were probably asking for reasons other than chit chat. In anticipation, I've sent her an email, saying I had a writer friend asking questions, and asked her if you could either send questions through me, or contact her directly. When I hear from her, I will let you know.

I'm sending Ruth some brainwaves, as I type. If she has an anxiety attack, then I sent the wrong ones, and I hope you'll apologize for me. ;)

Heh. Knowing my editor? She's about as unsusceptible to anxiety attacks at her age as is humanly possible.

Cool. If they wouldn't actually make her anxious, maybe I can intentionally send one her way then, just to get her moving.

The psychic equivalent of poking my editor in the arse with a salad fork?

I like it.

So, on the theory that my editor will at some point make some sort of offer for at least the next book, I actually went and wrote 2500 or so words.

Getting into a groove again. It feels good.

This is a home drabble only by the skin of its teeth. Amazing that it's 100, cause I could write a million without blinking.

Binary Star

Once I loved a man. His strength was shelter from cold, evil hunters in the dark. He was my godsend, my angel made flesh. Loving him was muscle memory, built down deep in the soul. I was his, against better judgment, against all odds, against even the truth. But fate is blind, and the prayers of the faithful are not always rewarded. My home was not destroyed in a fiery flash. It collapsed silently, disintegrating, leaving only the shell of truth. I am now and forever half of a binary pair, circling counterpoint with the ghost of my shining star.

Yep. Been writing continuously on damned near the same theme for awhile now...

Very nicely done indeed.