Resolution

[desperance]

Okay. It's half-past seven in the morning, and my slumbrous companions aren't expecting me till nine. I could spend the time noodling on the internets (oh wifi, how I love thee!), but I shall not do that. I could spend it reading my camera manual and pressing buttons on the device itself, but I only have one set of batteries with any power at all so I shall not do that either. I am a writer; writers write. I haven't done any work for days. Days'n'days. You can tell this, because I keep thinking of titles for stories that I really don't need to write. ("What It Is That We Do When We Write Science Fiction" - a muse on creativity, sort of a companion-piece to Paul Kincaid's book of essays, What We Do When We Read Science Fiction; "Singer/Songwriter Slash", a tale of future music and alien sex...)

So. I have coffee (complimentary coffee! "Oh Chaz," it says, "you are so smart and funny..."), I have time, I have technology. I am going to duck out of the internets, boot up Linux and do some damn' work.

The world shall hear from me anon.