We sit inside the scriptorium and surf the web.
I’ve been blocked so long it’s hard to remember sometimes that part of my original reason for coming out here was so I could write. I did write a novel, one of my favorites, in record time. Since then, except for some uninspired short stories and this blog I’ve been pretty much a would-be writer.
So anyway that’s why, on this changeable but consistently cold and blustery day I’m surfing instead of writing. The only alternative that presents itself as rational is to go back to the lair and read more of my landlady’s historical romances. Been doing a hell of a lot of that already. This time of the winter, it’s hard to remember that most of the year it’s summer.
It has been a particularly nasty winter this year…