How's the book going? Currently, it's not. Sometime in January I caught the flu and it just started to say bye-byes last week. In all of that time, I hadn't been able to take the dogs for a walk. (I can't remember how many storms we had in that time.) So, finally, last Monday, I got to take the dogs out on a walk.
It was great. It was invigorating. It was so gratifying to see the two wagging tails in front of me.
And then I hit the ice. I thought it was slush. It was solid ice. I fell flat on my back, skinned the palms of my hands and hit the back of my head. Welcome to Concussionville.
So working on the book was put on the shelf for another week.
I did try to write a chapter while in the first throes of the flu. Bad idea. I've taken a peek at that and now realize that all of it will have to be rewritten. Sherlock Holmes, the main character, suddenly turned into Hannibal Lecter (who is not a part of the book.) I really want this book to stay true to Holmes' character. This means lots of rewriting. Oh, joy.
Which I'm not looking forward to doing. And oh, hey -- there's yet another snowstorm on it's way, expected to hit late this afternoon.
Maybe I'll suddenly hear my Muse again in the spring. At the moment, I think he's in Cancun.
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