This will be a long weekend and I won’t post this until I’m done with it. One— I intend to work until I drop–to get a first draft completed of Necrow no matter what. To hell with opening a vein. I’m gong for the artery, dammit. After that, I will plan for finishing up other waiting projects. (Catrin–Bio-Nightmares WILL get done!)

In addition, after I send my novel draft off to my dear editor Broos Campbell for some stabbing and axing, I start a wonderful Moanaria session in Fright Club in a workshop next week along with two more Forensic Psych courses. Don’t ask me to explain Fright Club, because the number one rule about Fright Club . . . well, you know the deal. And if you don’t know, then just go to Moaner’s website (linked earlier) and take a tour. Maybe, if it sounds appealing, then you’ll submit an application. It’s well worth the blood, sweat and man/woman tears if you do it. Swear.

Today, I was in Appomattox, VA for a bit. It’s a town that seems so very worn down into the stump of its history and tradition. I think that clinging to the history has squeezed the life out of the town’s ability for advancement in the modern world. Words can’t really capture what I found there, but let’s just say that quite a few parts of it seemed to forget that the North (them damn Yankees) won the war. Here’s a few town photos (below).

Now, the Porches, of which I’ve written before–embraced me with warm writer comfort when I arrived. The owner, Trudy, is ever the wonderful hostess and made sure my room was ready, my name was on the door and checked to make sure I had everything I needed for my writing experience. (Thank you Trudy!) There’s nothing as lovely as sitting outside with a glass of wine and a laptop, and taking in the beauty and sounds of birds chirping while plotting how to kill your next character.

The title of this piece of art isn’t anywhere to be found, but I think of it as “The 3 Muses.” On one of the walls at Porches.