I know, I know, I know: My slowdown has wheeled to a near stop here. However, I’ve been writing both in my Storyspace project (the damn thing has grown from 75 writing spaces to over 200) and have posted about it in Hypercompendia. I’m enjoying it so that’s where my head’s at right now. I’m sixty now and can do as I damn well please. For the most part.
Which brings me to the money-making part of my life, the picture framing and the necessity of getting caught up with that before the clientele forms a lynch mob. There’s an additional problem that’s developed here besides lack of enthusiasm; my propane heater needs to be replaced and the serviceman strongly urged me against trying to use it as is. He said that it’ll either gas me if the pilot goes out and I haven’t noticed (I suspect this has been happening for some time–but the barn is so open to the elements that it hasn’t killed me yet) or it’ll blow up (now that’d be a more serious problem).
I’m trying to justify the money I make here versus the outlay of a new stove, the phone bills and advertising. But then again, nobody’s paying me for my writing or any of the other things I’d rather be doing.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Not blowing up is worth the outlay. Please don’t blow up. :o)