Still writing the blog in my bathroom. That has got to be unusual!
“The Man from Stone Creek” is off to a great start out there in the marketplace. Hitting all kinds of lists. I think I’d really be dancing if I didn’t have the cold from hell. Heading for the lake later today–my haven, my port in a storm. I’m still hoping to write, but may end up on the couch, slathered in Vicks and staring out at the lake.
The weather is overcast today–the kind of weather that goes along with a bad cold. Guess I’ll light the fire and devote fifteen minutes to feeling sorry for myself. (Hard to do in a beautiful lake house, with a book on every major list.) Like my characters, Sam O’Ballivan and any or all of the McKettricks, I’m not much for crying in my beer. But, hey, I’m only human. I’m entitled to that fifteen minutes. After that, it’s the family credo all the way: Suck it up. We’re burning daylight here.
Love and thanks to you all. I’ll blog from the lake house tomorrow. (Hi, Susan. It’s twenty-five minutes from here.) That is, if it doesn’t fall into that fifteen minute period of unbridled whining.
Cheers. I raise my glass of Nyquil to all of you. (Way too early for beer.)