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I want to be perfect, but sometimes it isn’t worth the time. I did finally write the chapter on Slim today. I was going to wait until morning to post it, but I decided to go ahead now. It’s not perfect, but right now, I don’t have a perfect chapter in me. That will have to wait for the rewrite, if I ever get there.

I’m up to 7500 words. If I go in one direction, it will be around 15,000 words, or another would make it more substantial, maybe 30,000. I still don’t see a path to novel-length.

Today was a hot one, but I did my workout before the mercury hit 80°. It was supposed to be a run, but my ankle ached, and I decided to walk until it loosened up. It never did. Still, a 3-mile walk burns the same number of calories as a 3-mile run. It just takes longer, and looks a little embarrassing when it gets posted on my running site.

Let’s just say my running has been far from perfect lately.

Perfection and I are uneasy bedfellows. My writing is far from perfect right now, too. It’s fast and furious, but maybe I should take more time on it. If I was going to do that, I wouldn’t be posting it online. I would be hiding it and sending samples to literary agents, maybe not as slimy as Slim, but beggars can’t be choosers.

And I’m a beggar?

Maybe. I do have some publications, but they are all out of print, well, all but one article, but like JJ, that’s under another name, and it’s a short biographical article. No huge royalties, none at all, in fact. I think they paid $15 for it, which isn’t even an hour of my time. There is also my anthology, which your conscience should be telling you to buy. You have been reading enough of my writing here (click on Buy! above). My brother-in-law loves it. (He just sent me an email about it.)

I did a little more of my paid work today, but not as much as I wanted. Today is shopping day, and I had more to do than usual. While I wasn’t doing any of that, I was watching people walk and run by my window, so wearing hardly anything, which for some was fine with me, but for others, I wished they would put something on. If I ever get to that state, I will do the honorable thing.


Me, yes, but the garden is, too, so I should water it and then have some dinner.

No promises for tomorrow.

Obsession with obsession

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I’ve been obsessed by two things today, which have become related. Firstly, skin. The first event of today’s installment of Planet Ezzie (5. Unicorn) is true. That also inspired my haiku: Purity. I think I want to say more about purity at some point, too. We’ll see where that goes.

My other obsession is Planet Ezzie. The neighbor boy, Tommy, becomes more than just a bystander, and is a different Tommy than I’ve written about under another pseudonym (for the few that know it), but is in many ways the same. (The other Tommy is from the 1970’s.) He’s the same curious kid, but this Tommy has special powers, and I don’t know what they all are yet, but certainly, he can see the magical symbols on Ezzie glowing through her clothing. I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I do have the next two installments in my head, although not yet written.

Ezzie took a dark turn in the middle of the previous series (More Late Nights with Ezzie Dryar), and this series is even darker. Her love interests have moved on, and many of her friends have all but disowned her. She is very much alone now, except for her pet succubus, who was exorcised from her at the end of the last series, but is still there clinging on to her, and still exerting a very tiny amount of control over Ezzie’s life.

I still don’t know where to post the 78 installments of the original Late Nights with Ezzie Dryar. It may have to be on EJO, since I haven’t written much there lately. I could put a link on TCoA that directs to it.

I think I’ll leave today’s flirtation with purity for another time, except for maybe this:

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A forest pond,
clear and undisturbed
by ripples or insects,
not even a tadpole.

The pure skin
of a young woman
in her flower,
perhaps deflowered
by her man opposite,
betrays no outward blemish.

Gold of 24 carats,
fine, but malleable,
is easily bent.

What value is this purity
when impurity gives strength?

With age comes stiffness,
wisdom and knowledge.
Do they corrupt or refine, 
Like the strongest tempered steel?

Do my impure thoughts
harden me against injustice,
or am I just as easily bent?

Taking shape

I spent some more time on the Annethology today. It now stands at around 61,000 words – 18 stories written since 2007, featuring The Veil of Sheera and Intolerance. Most of the stories are fantasy, some are dark, and some are sensual. I’m not sure how many more I should add.

Should I aim for 75,000 words? That would be around 300 pages. I don’t want to make it cost too much, since it will be my first foray into self-publishing – I say self publishing, but a friend of mine may publish it though his company.

Any thoughts? A few of the stories are posted on The Cult of Anne (link in my blogroll), and most of them (early drafts) are also on