Writing

I was trapped in my apartment today, waiting for maintenance people. By the time they were done, it was mid-afternoon. Since I couldn't go anywhere, I spent the day writing and was finally able to send "Mammoths of the Great Plains" to my agent. This is an alt history story. I decided after I had gone over it three times, making small revisions, that it was time to let go of it.

Then I revised an essay that needs to go to Timmi Duchamp in the next week or so, then moved on my Brer Rabbit story and wrote some more of it. Now it's time to quit. Six hours of writing is pretty much my max.