Between the drudgery of the mundane, and the scrapheap of leftovers the Day-to-Day god feels like giving me, I feel I’m making editorial progress.  There’s a huge marketplace, chock full of bartering, nonchalant writers–all vying for the day’s meal.  Some commonplace.  Some, somehow from the same markets, actually churned out Hollywood screenplays (God knows how).  And I think I can carve out a piece of that pie for myself.

Hell, judging  just by the lack of adjective flavor I’ve witnessed in other writers just this morning, I might just enjoy the whole damned thing to myself.


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