High on Nob Hill
Well! Blogging from the comfort of the spare futon of my writing pal Dorothy Hearst's (no relation to Patty, William Randolph, etc. unless she wants restaurant reservations) Nob Hill apartment, where I am staying for our self-made writer's retreat - which can be a really helpful thing if you can swing it and can find the right person. Sometimes being with someone else makes you sit and write, sometimes it makes you gossip about Viggo Mortenson. But if you find someone who makes you do the former, remember it, and hang out with them a lot.
I'm very excited because I've managed to complete two short stories in the last week, which is pretty unusual, even with my "the secret to writing is butt in chair" philosophy. They're surreal, almost fantasy; a Green Man encounter and a girl who works in a magic, and rather repressive, library. More on their progress as it comes. And of course almost every day I spend a little time on the Milky Way story, because hey, that's how you finish novels.
Everybody out there getting in their little bit if regular writing? Good. Keep it up.
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