I really need to decrapulate my office. I come in every day and sit amongst the papers and other detritus on the tables and try to work. No wonder I'm not getting anything done. Well, that and the fact that I've been avoiding writing a trip report for the two weeks that I spent in Seattle recently. I waver between being brutally honest and merely hinting at the fact that the trip didn't go all that well from a work perspective. Brutally honest might get me in trouble; hinting will earn me interrogation. Better the devil you know sometimes. Maybe I could try being somewhat less than brutally honest, thereby earning me less interrogation and keeping me out of trouble. I'm a writer, or at least I advertise that I am. I should be able to do that, shouldn't I?
Speaking of which, aside from a Ghostletters thing that I've been writing with siliconshaman and another person, I haven't really done any. I've got the Tony Reardon saga still up in the air, as well as a first chapter and a vague idea of where I'm going with Buff Studley, Rock 'n' Roll Detective, and that's where they've been sitting for a couple of months. I've got to get moving with those, not to mention a whole bunch of guitar instructional type things that I picked up after guitar camp and haven't really put much time into. I should be one busy guy, you know?
Oh, well, CSI: Miami's on in a few minutes.