I'm on the train as I write this. I'm making adjustments to my recently completed novel, The Backwards Path. My wife is my first and most important editor. She is an avid reader and helps assure that my stories have the intended impact and are not being spoiled by any of my favorite faults. She's the first outside view that's so essential to the process.
But I have a problem. The train is mighty full, and I have a pleasant, conscientious dude sitting next to me. He even moved over to make room for other passengers without being asked.
And that's a problem, you ask?
Yes, because he's falling asleep.
There he goes.
His head sinks forward, then leans my way. His elbow touches my elbow. The pressure climbs up my arm. I'm almost to the point of being molested, when--
Hey, um, sorry, um, whoops, um, yeah.
He straightens back up.
As I was saying, I'm excited about the impact of this novel. I've kept it close to the vest for two years. This was the first time I got to see if my risks and approach paid off. My wife and I are both pleased. I'll be able to start submitting in about--
Gah, he's coming again. Dripping over.
Dude, use a headrest! Those lumps on the top of the seats work. Really, they do.
I'll make this brief, because he's already doing it again. Narcolepsy perhaps.
As for other writing news, I'm happy to announce that my flash fiction piece "200 Minutes" has been accepted for Out of the Gutter magazine's special war issue. I've also been invited to submit a piece about our cabin building experience in an upcoming cabin-ology book.
The dude's using me for a pillow now.