What could possibly stop a writer from posting about Emilio Estevez and working on a novel?
I picked up a pan from a 425 degree oven. Just forgot about the pot holder. Yup. Now I can type with my left hand only, and that’s just not working out.
If you write from home, there’s no writers comp to cover an injury. Sometimes you miss the old office job, like when you sizzle your hand on a hot pan or fall down the stairs or walk into wood furniture, all of which I’m prone to do.
So, yesterday: A day with series three of the Walking Dead. Today: more of the same.