Send lawyers, guns and money…


After a furious two weeks of activity I am mentally exhausted. I serve in a sales management role and February is end of year for my company.  Needless to say that is brisk.  For some reason during that  time I decided to start a diet, two new short stories, resume editing my current MS with help from a friend, finished edits on and submited a short story and wrapped up final planning for the writing retreat I am hosting in April. I am not certain that is everything going on, but it is what my current wafer of cognitive ability can sustain.

At this point all I really want to do is play with my lower lip, watch Art of Noise videos on Youtube and make “Booping” noises.  Yes.

Peter Gunn — You know you want to…

So with all that mental wear and tear why am I starting at a story and trying to write?  Have I finally crossed over into the final stages of mental illness we call writing?  I fear so…

On the upside this is Friday and this weekend I am going to bo some yardwork and possibly take the twins to a local renaissance faire.

There will be turkey legs I tell you!

Now, back to this story about a Troll in Brooklyn… (please don’t let it be a novel, please don’t leve it be a novel, please don’t let it be a novel)

– Seamus

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