Typepad, you are useless. I should have left you decades ago. But, much like an AOL email address, I’m just too lazy to quit you.
I talked to my husband about this. “I know a person,” I said. but the effort to clean up 15-year-old writing feels similar to an abandoned wood bench. It would feel good to purge it, but good enough to warrant the effort? One wonders.
I am waiting to emerge from this pandemic.
I have a third novel in me.
I need the library back to write it.
I need to get out of my house. My work.
I need for my world to be a platform to jump beyond myself again.
I need my world to be bigger.
I need to migrate this website to something better.
I need to write another novel.
I need for the world to take its mask off and breathe in, breathe out, and move on.
