Is It January Yet?

Oh the people outside are frightful,
But the wine is so delightful,
And since the holidays won’t pass me by,
Death found an author
Let ’em die, let ’em die, let ’em die.

This is my version of Holiday Humor. Or is it Humerus? Bwahahahaha. I blame the Nyquil I have been slugging back to keep an upper respiratory infection at bay. I’m not sure who is winning yet.

But despite my pitiful state of health, I just submitted Assignment 3 in my 12 Weeks to a First Draft class. So it turns out that when one is actually writing a book, rather than just talking about writing a book, there is considerably less time for blogging and Face-booking and Twittering.

BUT, there is still time for wine and snuggling with Hemingway. I completely give him the credit for my consistent word count. And Coe, always supportive, with his constant, “are you working on your book or buying books on Amazon.” As if the two things are somehow mutually exclusive.

When I buy books on Amazon, it’s called RESEARCH, honey.

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