So once again a story has grabbed me by then throat, backed me up against a wall and said, “Write me. NOW.” I protested that I was in the middle of another project but the story would have none of that. There was nothing for it but to do as it demanded. “Can you at least promise me you are a full novel?” I whin- uh, asked. The story just glared at me and checked the loads in it’s .45 and muttered menacingly. To be fair the story is coming out quickly. Action stories are good that way. Besides, now that I’m into the it I’m dying to see what happens next and how it all ends.

Mind you this story is not one I had ever thought I’d write. It was Linda’s story after all, but she’s busy and the story knows better than to mess with her. She’s scary. Linda, the love-of-my-life-wife-goddess-coauthor thinks it’s cool that a story can grab me and just flow out. I guess maybe it is. So I’ll work half-days in the shop and write obsessively for a while, and in the end there will be one more story off my mental welfare roles and out there in the world supporting itself. That’s a good thing, right?