IMUST GO TO MY ROOM, WITHOUT SUPPER OR FURTHER DELAY. Right now—to my room. Which apparently is no longer in the house, mind you, but in a 12-by-11 shed out in the backyard, a shed that was here when I arrived 25 years ago, did temporary duty as a spare storage space, and then for the last nine years housed Jack the Demon Cat, until he recently got a bigger idea. But now I must go to my room, and write a new book (yes, not my “new” book, but another new book) and apparently I will be doing it somewhere other than in my house, er, his house. Oh, heavens, this is confusing. But here’s the scoop:
As part of my “new” life here, trying to support myself by writing and some other freelance jobs, I sold another book that’s due at the New Year. Uh-oh. What I can tell you about it is this: The garden features as the main character, and there will be a good-sized dose of woo-woo. More on the book, and more photos of my new “home office,” a.k.a. Jack’s former home (below), to come shortly.
But I have to get cracking, after months of rumination and preparation. So if you’re looking for me? I’ll be out back. In the shed. You know, the one that I’ve been relegated to since someone in a tuxedo took charge here. He swears he’ll wake up and actually do something from time to time around the Big House; should I take him seriously?