One Hand Typing

Despite my best intentions, I have not been here as much as I wanted. In part, for good reasons, because I wrote a Nanowrimo novel and I have been working on finishing it ever since. My spare moments have been spent untangling plot points, fleshing out...

*Madam has a serious girl crush on another little girl in her classroom. She pretends to be this girl at home, talks rapturously about their playtime in school, and has even chosen attire based on whether it resembled something the Beloved had worn to...

(cool picture from here.)
I'm nervous.
Oh, I know there isn't really any reason to be. I'm sitting in my basement (yes, I bought a house! Probably more on that later...) with my laptop perched like a faithful Lab on my lap. I'm not running away from saber toothed tigers or battling conquering...

(Image from here.)
A word like regret should have sparked about a million story ideas for me...or OK, at least ten. After all, I think most of my writing is about regret in some way—missed opportunities, words that stick in the throat that perhaps could have changed everything...