Happy New Year to all my readers, those who love me, those who hate me, those who are indifferent, those I wish would read me. All three million of them!!
I'm sick which is not the way to start the new year. Some sort of flu and I can hardly stir from bed. I have moments of no fever and lucidity and then the chills rush in, bed beckons and I sleep again. I can't speak - which my husband says is a blessing. Nor can I write - which is frustrating. But no point trying, I can barely remember the plot of my current story. 40,000 words in and I'd guess 30,000 more to finish it, but that's a big guess. Though I've reached the point that I'm already dreaming of new stories. Two twirling in my head though fuelled by my flu soaked brain, they will likely come to nothing.
And just because I like to add a picture. This is the view from my house. Wet, wet, wet. There shouldn't be a pond there. It's just a field.