I've been writing. Not here, obviously, but on my commutes back and forth from teaching Greek in the evenings. I don't want to go into details right now, so as not to jinx it, but it's the first short story I've written in over ten years. Hell, it's the first anything I've written in over ten years, creatively speaking. Right now it's at about three thousand words, give or take - not a lot, but considering the dry spell I'm coming out of, three thousand words feels like three hundred thousand - and the story itself is safely beyond the halfway point. I forgot what a rush it is, when you first catch sight of the ending of the story, and what was starting to seem like hopeless meandering pulls tight, and you're suddenly rushing headlong towards the final sentence with a terrible, wonderful velocity. How I've missed this feeling! Now ideas that have been backing up in the nooks and crannies of my brain are all trying to break out at once, the characters morphing into each other, the plotlines interweaving and colliding, and dialogue spilling out of my imagination and onto my moving lips, inadvertently, when I'm waiting for the bus. The hardest part is going to be staying focused on one story at a time. But that's infinitely preferable to indefinite writer's block. Here's to hoping the words keep flowing.

Oh, and I've also been dabbling in a little bit of sculpture. With office supplies. No, really:







I'm calling them "When Dinosaurs Roamed The Cubicle".