I owe you all an explanation. Didn’t I quit drinking coffee? Why am I now spotted every day with a mugful of the stuff in my vibrating hands, or a headful of it in my erratic behaviour? (More than one person has busted me on this — which is funny, because I didn’t think anybody reads this blog.)
Yes, I’m back on the sludge. All day, every day. It’s been like this since I began work on my current novel in April. I found I simply couldn’t get work done without it. How sad is that?