I woke this morning early but persevered and slept in till eleven. Then I got up, did a tour of the garden and began writing. I started a story last night after I wrote my blog called “Not Quite Dark” so I worked on that for a while this morning. Then I took a break and watched the rest of the Coen borthers’ True Grit that I’d started last night before I was cut off by power consumption.

By afternoon I decided I’d rather work through the rain by editing so I got well into Blind Fish Lost in the Tunnels. I am hoping to release it when I get back in September so I’d like to have as good a draft as possible when I go back. So far it is coherent and readable, so we’ll see how the latter part, which was written more recently, fits into it.

The rain stopped later in the day and the sun even came out for a little while, enough to warm the shower water, but on the whole it was a strange day spent inside on pursuits I could have done in Winnpeg. Although if I had internet I likely wouldn’t get as much writing done.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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