What does a 1,125 page manuscript need more than anything?

Apparently 92 more scenes. *facepalm*

It’s daunting, but when I’m done, I’ll be able to love the first part of the story as much as the ending.

Even if it doesn’t have nearly as many fires.

At age 35, it would be nice if I finally understood how time works. Instead, this is what it looks like when I try to take a late afternoon hike:

90 minutes before sunset: Intend to go hiking.

50 minutes before sunset: Actually leave to go hiking.

40 minutes before sunset: Arrive at destination and proceed to walk original intended distance, due to inflexibility.

10 minutes before sunset: Run to cover more ground until darkness makes this an unwise course of action.

Sometime after sunset on the line between dusk and night: Arrive back at car with no dire consequences having befallen me, thus reinforcing that I can get away with this, whether or not I actually like it.

Anything can be a double-edged sword. I now know that a three-year-old’s enjoyment of Christmas presents does not exist on a five-point scale of “Strongly Dislike” to “Strongly Like,” but that there is a like-related category of “my single-minded enthusiasm for this item requires it to be within one foot of my body at all times, and things like bedtime, mealtime, and leaving the house for any reason are no longer viable life choices.”

Anyway, we had a decent Christmas despite 2020 being what it is, and I now have my small sliver of parenting information to file away for later use.

I decided that my pie comes from a culture in which it is indecent to show one’s crust, and whipped-creamed it accordingly.

WORLDBUILDING.

Pumpkin Goblins: New Cover Poll

I’m in the process of (finally!) creating a print version of Pumpkin Goblins. That being the case, it seemed like a good time to update the cover. The typography has always given me a slightly uneasy “off” feeling, but as a confirmed perfectionist, my choices were to publish the book with a less-than-perfect cover, or spend (probably) months agonizing over it and not publishing it at all.

So, what do you think?

A conversation I had tonight with my partner at the culmination of a week of bean-type soups and chilis:

Me: Dinner tomorrow?
Partner: Three-Bean Soup.
Me: Me: *swears at partner*
Partner: Three-Bean Soup, but instead of the broth–
Me: There’s a fourth bean?
Partner: I call at Three-Bean Surprise. The surprise is the fourth bean.