Something I meant to mention yesterday, but it slipped past me. On Monday, while we were reading Chapter One, I found, on page 98 of the ms., a note I made to myself last year on or not long after January 3rd. 4:28 p.m., and something about my mother having called to tell me that my grandmother was dead. It was a shock, coming across it all this time later, all this time that seems hardly any time at all. The note, in red ink, and an arrow to the place I stopped writing that day, as soon as the phone call came.
I didn't leave the house yesterday.
So, this Amazon Connect thing went live today. You can see my author's page by clicking here, and there's a link from all my books.
My head is in too many dark places this morning (it is still morning, wow). Dark places and thoughts too vast for my mind. Sometimes, to use a simile as crudely as ever anyone has, I feel like a drinking straw that someone's trying to shove a watermelon through. But this is not the time or place, not the confluence of time and place, to go on some rant about people who mistake magick for technology (or vice versa) or the folly of trying to contain the goddess within some mythic, merely sentient, anthropomorphic form. It's not even the place to start in about the things I dreamt last night. All that can wait for some warmer, later day...