Sprinting

"Poor Butcher-Bird," the story for Humans Are The Real Problem, has finally shaken awake--700 words yesterday, and I hope to double that today. I'm doing pretty well with that, probably at least partly because Steve went in to work, which leaves me free to do what I want in any order I want to do it. I'll be quitting for now soon enough to take Cal out, pick up some more canvases and new bulbs for the bathroom mirror, then double back and hopefully finish up the rest, plus growing more spine for "Shamhat," which I've been lax with (because I'm not getting paid for it, sadly). Maybe cross-breed with bits of poetry? Sure, why not.

I consulted with somebody who should know yesterday, and they believe that if I offered my paintings for sale, people really might buy them. Shall we see?