The mancub sits in the debris of serial winter storms and squirrel damage, and judges me for not having done anything about it yet.
Hoping to get to that tomorrow, if the rain stays off. Not today. Yesterday I hammered out twenty finished pages, and the brain is a little bruised this morning. Today is for pick-up jobs – cleaning up one piece, brief edits on another, phoner with a producer and a director tonight, a few bites at a personal project and time to think about the conversation I had with my book agent last night.
Inbox 90. I will be good at email today and bad at email tomorrow.
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