Chaos in Motion

Chaos rools at my abode, & there is no end in sight. This domestic interruption is necessary because of special circumstances--yet it is hell nonetheless, and I will be so happy when it is over and my home is once again mine own. Little things are helping to see me through the mess, such as Barbra Streisand's magnificent new recording. The main emotional problem for me is that, with all the ruckus and disturbance in my home life, I am finding it extremely difficult to find that quiet mind-space requir'd for writing. I've been trying to work on a new story for almoft two weeks now, and I have two paragraphs to shew for my efforts. This is okay, because my new book (a collection of Victorian-era Mythos tales) isn;t scheduled for publication any time soon. Still--writing gives me a special peace of mind that makes existence tolerable; and when I find myself unable to write, I find it increasingly difficult to function in life. It is possible that ye situation will end in a fortnight, and then I can pick up the pieces, get my home in order once again, and life in peace and solitude.

I have a lot of things I want to write, and it makes me happy to know that I will return to it full-time and continue to contribute my wee efforts to weird fiction.