All Hail Endorphins

Hey. Psst. Hey you.

Wanna read some awesome suspenseful romance?

My writing partner, the Selkie, entered the Harlequin So You Think You Can Write? contest. Right now it’s just the first 5K words of Grand Theft, Auto, a completely awesome story I’ve been bugging her to submit SOMEWHERE for a while now. (One of the many. You hear me, Selkie? ONE OF THE MANY.) Wanna read it? Of course you do. Here it is. And if you like the taste, be sure to vote for it!

This morning’s run was sans Miss B. Her paws are a bit worn, and I think she needs a break. She does not agree, but she is not In Charge here. Anyway, I have found that she forces me to run at a reasonable pace, and running without her means I end up covered in grass stains, retasting breakfast, and quite possibly bruised. And feeling like Supergirl, of course. All hail endorphins.

So, yeah. I recently finished a retelling of Cinderella that I thought I would never get to a finished zero draft on. I don’t think I’ve been quite fair to the book, because I thought I could produce it while buying a house and moving. BOY HOWDY WAS I WRONG. So now I have a zero draft that is far sloppier and shoddier than such things usually are, and a lot more work than usual to get it into reasonable first-draft shape. But at least the corpse is on the table and it can be chopped, rearranged, and padded. It’s better than it being unfinished.

Also, I’m late with page proofs already, and there’s been a boondoggle over missing paragraphs. Which is partly my fault, because I am focusing on one thing at a time instead of multitasking like I usually do. It requires physical and emotional energy to multitask that I thought I’d have. Guess I was wrong.

So, when one’s wrong, one picks oneself up, dusts oneself off, and goes back into the fray. Accompanied by a bulldog puppy whose newest obsession is chewing used Kleenex and a reproachful Australian Shepherd who simply cannot believe I went out without her. (She thinks that a lot. Apparently I cannot be trusted on my own. I really can’t argue…) So here it is, into the wild blue yonder.

Even Supergirl gets tired sometimes.

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one picks oneself up, dusts oneself off