"This hope is more than bricks and mortar."

Yesterday, I wrote 667 words on "Untitled 37," a story that I can see more or less in its entirety, stem to stern. So it seems very strange that I also decided, yesterday— after a conversation with Spooky about exhaustion and reasonable expectation —to shelve the story. I'll write it next month for Sirenia Digest #53. Right now, I have to get #52 together and out to subscribers, and get my mind on The Wolf Who Cried Girl.

I feel like I should try to make a longer entry, but I didn't sleep particularly well, and I fear it's just not presently in me to do so.