Well, the important thing is I'm back to writing.

I've answered a question that I've always wondered about.

Would writing itself be enough? If I thought no one would ever read my scribblings, would it still be satisfying to create?

The answer, surprisingly, is yes. To a point.

Because, even though I'm not actively looking for ways to print up or expose my writing, that is still kind of a hazy goal in the future.

I got back three of the revisions to my manuscript, and they are sitting on my table. But vacation time came, and then summer, and I've more or less decided not to tackle it until Fall. The last two books -- the one I wrote before my long hiatus, and the one I wrote after -- are lumps of coal. I know there is a diamond in there somewhere, but I'm not sure how to extract it.

So, meanwhile, I've started a little space fantasy for myself. I'm writing it more the way I write my blog. Easy, cheesy. Not struggling over it, just sort of spinning it out.

The fun and satisfaction is in writing that first draft, the discovery, the flexing of the creative muscles. I'm going with that, for now.

Because in the end, no matter that actually producing something in a readable form is the ultimate goal, nothing is possible without the original material. So the fact that it's piling up a tad doesn't really bother me.

I'm hoping for inspiration on SOMETIMES A DRAGON and on I'M ONLY HUMAN that will unlock their potential.

Meanwhile, it's on to writing the next thing. CLOUDSHIPS. Here I come.