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I’ve been off visiting my family for the past week, so this place has been quiet (trying to type more than miniscule updates on my phone isn’t very appealing). Spending time with my sisters and their kids is always entertaining, and I got to spend a lot with my parents, so the trip was definitely good.

Now, normally I curse the 4.5-hour drive to and from their house, but this one was different. Maybe it was the music randomly shuffling across my mp3 player, or maybe it was the weather, but I got some good thinking done while zooming down that blistering interstate. It was the most enjoyable alone time I’ve had in quite a while. Why? It was productive. My meandering, gap-jumping brain came up with a pretty good opening for a short story about an hour into the drive, and I spent the rest of it thinking of possible settings in which to lay that opener.

The idea could go in any direction: horror, introspection, or wild fiction. It would fit neatly into several of the stories that have been living in my head since I was 14, but I’m inclined to make this something new. If you have a preference, feel free to drop me a line. The thinking hasn’t stopped yet.

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