Pen still hits paper

Progress is slow, life muscles in (constantly jostling for attention) but pen still (occasionally) hits paper – if only metaphorically. Over the past three months I’ve been working on the opening chapter of a Noir novel, the collaborative brainchild of Rob True and myself, spawned over a few beers earlier this summer, as well as a few flash fiction pieces:

Icarus Man

Just Desserts


What Would Hemingway Do?

If I can finish at least one of them, and get it published by the end of the year, I’ll be happy.


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