Sorry or the slowness of the update, but I'm stumbling through an interesting spring involving exploded hard drives, new full-time jobs and graduating children. On the plus side I've got the tickle of a really exciting and probably over-involved project. I'll just blame Mervyn Peake for it and not expand past that. Some of you will know what I'm on about, as it's his thematic concerns that attract me the most.
That little, cowardly portion of my brain is nagging at me that this is an unsalable novel idea, but screw that noise. This is the book I really want to write, despite the time and anguish it will inflict, despite the fact that the form is one rarely used any more, and despite the fact that it's likely to be ridiculously involved.
Writing has to be love, and I love what I'm thinking about.