Bob Dylan's birthday. Spending the day listening to him as I write. There are geniuses -- Mozart's, Beethoven's -- among us. Amazing output.
Three out of four people who have read the first chapter don't like the insertion of the werewolf viewpoint at the end. Only Linda likes it. Thing is, I do the same kind of insertion throughout the book, so it establishes a pattern early.
Then again -- three out of four.
Heard one explanation for why there is a housing shortage and rising prices. That people are so underwater they can't leave their houses, can't get enough money for the downpayment to the next house.
So bad news is good news, eh?
Gardening is suffering because of the writing. I thought I could do both, but it's more like one or the other.
Meanwhile, Led to the Slaughter isn't just coming to me. It's a struggle. I have a good story here, I have the plot in mind, but my subconscious isn't producing without some nudging.
So I'm nudging. I'm nudging.
My store is really worn around the edges. Carpets, lights, beaten up fixtures, and so on. Living with it, because I don't see how I do anything about it without spending a fortune, and losing money at the same time if I were to close for renovations. So I concentrate on squaring away and cleaning what I have, as much as possible.
Most people don't care, and the inventory is so overwhelming it sort of disguises it. I'm not expected to be pristine, but funky.
Even if I was inclined to take on the hard work and risk of doing a new bookstore, there is one overwhelming reason not to do it. I couldn't sell it at the end of the project. Without that possibility, it's just a sinkhole.
If I was ten years younger, I'd gamble the cycle will come around again and bookstores would be desired.
If I had the room, I could carry twice as many book that I know could sell. There are tons of standards, and I'm surprised existing bookstores don't concentrate on those more.
16 hours ago