This week, though, it seems that the Beltresin prequel and the new Rugosa story are quite happy to share writing sessions. I think I swapped between them three or four times today, with results that are rough but promising. How do I account for this change in process? No clue. I'll play with it a while and see what happens.
When Charles and Amelia Baines died, there were eight televisions in their house, none of them plugged in.
Now that I know these characters were old school occultists whose most treasured possession is a small collection of Madame Blavatsky's letters, I find the consumerist frenzy of their last months on earth even more bewildering than I did when the story first came to me. Anything might happen.