Patrick Stewart cannot be killed
I saw friends the other day that I hadn’t seen in months. Their surprise that I had drastically changed my hair style was like a gauge for time. I remembered warmer weather and fireworks. I remembered that I had cut my hair around the time that I started the new job. I’d like to say somewhere in there I also remembered when I had last blogged, but that would be a lie. But it would be true if I said I had been writing. Not true in the sideways sense that the next rewrite is coming along, which it is, or in a distracted sense in that the 5 th book is out and available for purchase , which it is, but in the pure sense that I had the idea of something new, and started pecking away at it, and have put a dozen or so thousand words onto paper. Combined with the work schedule, which is on its way to becoming routine, it is a grind. I don’t have a lot of excess energy for it, though I have identified time to devote, but consistently nearing E on my fuel tank has led to some odd dreams an