What I'm Reading Now & Whatever
Nothing. The leaves are turning, the air temperature is dipping and the acorns are dive bombing the car. The cat's got a lame leg, I've washed all the windows & vac'd all the screens, and my wife's homemade apple pie is to die for. I can look up the mountain from our home and imagine the bears that'll soon be prohibiting me from continuing my trailblazing. The wild turkeys remind me of myself as an awkward teen (not sure I understand this one). I'm surrounded by writing prompts. They're unavoidable even if I intentionally try. Point is, I know they're there and free to use, just not for me. Not right now. What I'm reading doesn't matter. Oh sure, I've polished off two time-sucks of psychological fiction since my last "What I'm Reading Now" post, but haven't felt like posting about them. Long story short, the time I'd typically spend writing things and practicing has been kidnapped by work related stresses,