Good afternoon, Crickets! I hope you're all doing well in your respective silent spaces, and that the approach of the holidays on little clawed monster feet isn't giving you conniptions. I've been working on Not Named and trying to avoid being sickly, which if you know me is a fairly constant battle. In the process, I have done a great deal of research, chucked the concept of NaNoWriMo, and learned to stop worrying and love the bomb.

The bomb in question is, of course, my Illustrious So-Called Career, which really does deserve those capital letters. I'm going to give it my all, which means that these updates from me might be coming few and far between. Now, now, Crickets, don't chirp... it will be all right. With luck, I'll come out on the other side of the Long Silence (I'm fairly obsessed with capital letters today - curious) with a brand new Something for you to read, if you're so inclined. I'm pleased with the little baby steppies Not Named is taking, so my hopes are high.

Incidentally, a co-worker at my day job informed me that my writing was the equivalent to other people collecting bottles. I was offended, then I was amused, and now I think I shall just refer to the process of writing as "bottle collecting". That approach annoys my friend Big Cat, but sometimes these things can't be helped.

One last comment before I go soft into that good writing corner: Tristan has taken on all of the characteristics of a bad boyfriend. He drives me insane when I'm trying to spend time with him, takes me completely for granted and mistreats me until I throw him out. As soon as my attention is drawn to a nice, cooperative new friend like Not Named, he comes crawling back, armed with pretty words and a promise to make it work out this time, really. Shall I take him back, Crickets?

Nah. Boyfriend has to work for it this time. ;)