Early mornings are usually a great time for priming creative juices and channeling dreamland’s poetic inspirations.
Lately though, a certain feline roommate has been waking me up way too early with his demands for breakfast, balcony visits and chin-scratches-on-lap.
Even with cups of hot coffee and all that extra time, I haven’t gotten around to writing much fiction lately. I think he has interrupted my circadian rhythms.
Writing activities have taken a detour to channeling my cats’ thoughts, composing and delivering stern letters to government agencies and publishing a recap of a day touring my city.
That should be good enough, right?
I’ve been getting in some reading time too, posting book reviews and status updates under my pen name. Something tells me I should stick to reading cozy mysteries instead of those unsolvable mysteries of the Universe!
Thanks for dropping by. If you’re looking for some light, Canadian fiction check out The Year of the Rabbit.
T
Shewrite63 
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