A 2-post collection

My humblest of apologies...


Today’s story may well be my last.

Not for lack of prompts. I have lots of prompts.

Not for lack of sales. I would do this even if my own mother never purchased a story.

It’s nothing you did or omitted. I promise.

It’s this fucking wrist. I did some damage to myself [NEVER SLEEP WITH ELASTIC ‘SOCK’ BRACER/BANDAGES ON, KIDDIES!] and I need to take a break from writing.

If you need me, I shall be going quietly insane because writing fucking hurts and I can’t not write.

You can help by paying money for my books. Yay.

O… someone give me some good fucking news, today. I need it.


My right wrist is starting to ache, and I need it to do my day job.

I need my day job.

I still need to get X-rayed and ultra-sounded to find out what, exactly, has gone wrong this time. But I also need to minimise the driving I do.

Fun times.

Did I mention that editing FUCKING SUCKS yet?

Whilst waiting for my dear Beta Readers to get back to me about Hevun’s Ambassador [C'mon! Hurry it along! It’s half-past January already!] I am putting together One Year of Instants.

Which requires a table of contents.

And in the making of said table of contents, I have discovered that pretty much ALL OF THE STORIES ARE FUCKING MIS-NUMBERED since story #16

There are no words for the level of meltdown that is threatening my sanity, right now.

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