Five hundred words on YAWT (Yet Another Working Title) amid heavy editing. Plus I learned just enough about Corona Discharge to scare myself. The name sounds awful, like something you'd see soaking into the dirt out back of a border town tavern. But I assure you, it's not anything like that.

Crap. That image is now burned into my brain. I'm going to stop describing stuff now.

Today I had flash of brilliance and changed a small part of Ash, the short story I finished last week. Something Steve mentioned a couple of times during his critique of it finally made sense to me and so out went most of the foreign text. I had to run across something similar in a story I was reading in the bathroom when it hit me.

What? Are you saying you never read or have great ideas while in your bathroom? Yeah, I thought so...

Afterward (don't ask after what) I pecked out a few words on a current WIP and made some minor changes per Steve's suggestions before he left on a business trip. And now, I should either be writing my fingers to the bone or reading something, anything, anything at all rather than sitting here bored and aimlessly staring off into space wondering what I would do and what would become of me if I had to spend the rest of my life alone.

It's not a pretty scenario so let's not think about it right now.

But then again (thinking about it anyway because there's no one else here to stop me from doing so), I do have a horribly bad, unfinished short about a woman who practically lives alone because her husband spends about as much time at work as she spends in her garden which is all.the.time. Maybe I could use this time to peck at that short, because really, do I really need to play another age of Age of Empires?