Sometimes I tell myself I should write comedy. Take the above, for example. It happened, because it must, in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. Since I moved recently, things in my car were not all where they should be, so my trusty roll of duct tape was nowhere to be found. MacGyver would be disappoint. I had to drive for 17 miles in the pitch dark, scraping the road before me, hearing gravel ping against the guts of my little Asian import. I was able to find an open truck stop, thus I was able to purchase tape. Then I was able to drive two hours to get home.
In other news, been hard at work on a few writing projects, but nothing finished. The time for FaerieCon fast approaches, so time and money will go to that.
I am currently between books. Any suggestions?