Someone please tell me I'm crazy to be trying to figure out if it'd be possible to have a profitable e-press devoted to traditional Regencies while I'm A) supposed to be getting ready to leave for a week, and B) had decided that I was going to temporarily leave entrepreneurship behind and get some kind of traditional job in the near future so we can buy a house and I can devote my spare time to writing without that guilty feeling that I ought to be seeking out freelance clients.

Okay - that's nuts.

Plus -- if the enterprise by itself isn't nuts (I don't know that I can judge that) -- it's certainly something that will keep until well after you get back.

True, sumi. Especially because if someone announces tomorrow they're starting a Regency e-press, my reaction wouldn't be, "Damn, they stole my idea!" but, "Huzzah! Someone is doing it!"

Lilty, I would totally get the pretty notebook. It would be like in the movies -- you know, inspirational music, a montage: me taking out my pen, and pretty notebook, writing, falling asleep on a park bench, with my glasses all crooked, 'cause in my montage, I have glasses.

Bwah! Cindy is my brain.

Bwahahahahha! Cindy and Lilty, I do so hear ya. I'm not that far off from that scenario myself...yet somehow the ratty, well-traveled notebook fits into my mental fantasy better. Mine involves a tattered green duffle bag with flags stiched to it, as well as the glasses lying crooked on my face.

I had a lovely day. Went to Sam Weller's Zion Bookstore, the most wonderful bookstore in the state. They buy books and give you credit so you can buy new ones! I sold some of my old writing books and bought two new ones, one by Isaac Asimov and his wife and one by my writing Yoda, Lawrence Block. Then I spent a couple of hours in various nooks and crannies of the place, visiting with lovely books

The company seems to have knocked some of the dust off my muse, so, a late entry into the drabble....

Her attention stayed on the TV, her eyes flickering towards me occasionally. She looked vaguely puzzled, a little anxious.

She started to speak once, and I wondered if she was going to ask who I was, to be sitting in her room like this.

I stood. I started towards her, then stopped at her look of alarm. Sighing, I turned to go.

"Good night, mother."

connie, ouch. Lovely, and painful.

I'll probably be back drabbling once I'm done with the WIP. At the rate it's been coming, that looks to be - quite seriously - sometime next weekend or thereabouts.

It's pushing 59,000 words. All my attention is vested in it right now.

Connie, I like that one. I think my next one kind of fits into the same category, whatever you want to call it. It's sort of an undefined category, but recognizable.

Stalk Her

She lies in wait for me. I don’t always know when or where she’ll show up. Last time it was in the grocery store; I was squeezing some grapes. Mushy grapes are nasty, but I only squeeze, never eat.

She ambushed me. I tried to ward her off. Before I knew it she had grabbed a carton of raspberries. Like a child, she stuffed them in my mouth, smearing them around my face grotesquely. But, I’m the one that had to go to court; pay the fine. Some day, I’ll learn how to keep her confined only to my mind.

WHOA. Sail, that's - ok, "confined space" as defined by "mind", dayum.

I was in a "Sybill" sort of mood, today, Deb. Like I said, it's not a genre you can really pin down, but you know it when you see it, yes?