I'm still coughing.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,462 words on the new Dancy story, which is now titled "Tupelo," even though it's set in Birmingham. Spooky finished with the page proofs for Dear Sweet Filthy World, and today we have to send our notes to Subterranean Press.
I think that's all I have for now, except for this photograph of an apocalyptic sky hanging over our street yesterday afternoon.
Résistance, paix et Compassion,
Bête de tante