I’ve moved past my July chagrin into deep, despondent, and acute embarrassment at the length of time that has elapse since I last posted here. Could it really be six months since I’ve given this blog the attention it deserves? Cue the deep blushing and utter mortification of a self-proclaimed writer who fails to actually write on her own blog.
While it doesn’t make up for a lack of posts, I have managed to put pen to paper a few times in the intervening months. As usual, November flew by in all of its frenetic NaNoWriMo glory. This year’s challenge resulted in a partially completed mystery novel and one burnt out writer. I always question the wisdom and sanity of participating in National Novel Writing Month. The thrill of the frenzied pace still outweighs the subsequent burnout, so I imagine that I’ll be back again this year.
I’m hoping to have more of At Scythe Point posted shortly… by which, I mean sometime before 2025. Yes, I’m still embarrassed by my lack of posts. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go hide my head in shame behind a pot of Earl Grey while I pencil a reminder in my calender to visit this blog more often.