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.