Moving on

I put the finishing touches on The Vagrant and sent it off it to the Golden Heart contest, followed up with queries to a half dozen agents and publishers, watched some movies, daydreamed, moped, critiqued a chapter for my partner, moped some more, got bored and started toying with ideas for my next novel.

There's the ghost story I think about whenever wondering what to write. And the found a briefcase full of money story. Sadly, Cormac McCarthy raised the bar for that one.

Or a zombie story . . . yeah, like the world needs another one of those.

Then it hit me. A sad, gnawing, abandoned-my-kitten guilt. I spent 10,000 words last spring beginning a story about a brother and sister, a leprechaun, a mysterious girl from another dimension and an angel. They've been frozen in the ether, waiting for me to bring them back to life.

The name of the story is Invulnerable, and I'll be working on it for a good long while.