After a bout of real world interruptions, during which time nothing of writerly importance was accomplished, today I spoke to my agent on the telephonic device. We discussed my recently completed first draft of Talonshale, and agreed that six weeks should give me ample time to come up with a version sturdy enough to withstand his weighty scrutiny.
Which seems like loads of time, right? I'll have leftover time coming out of my ears, right? (In the visible spectrum, a sufficient quantity of 'leftover time' can sometimes resemble soap bubbles). Writing a first draft in five weeks means you oughtter be able to edit the thing in a week tops. Am I right?
No -- Not so for me, my friends.
I'm a better word-vomiter than I am a word-polisher.
So we'll see how it goes.
In the meantime, looky here -- some 'family' and some 'whatnot' to go along with all the durned 'writin' talk.