What to say today? I don't know. But it's cold out there and smelling some firewood would be nice right about now. I've been writing, but who cares? Right? No, WRITE! It's nice while it's happening, the writing, though I can't seem to shake the heebie jeebies. But almost as comical as another Billy in the 1920s. Research is key, but not necessary. It's fiction. C'mon!
Seriously now. It's cold outside. Baby. But don't put me in the corner. Okay. So maybe not too seriously.
I'm thinking about later, but not too hard. Don't want to wish the days away. Work has been a bit taxing these days, almost to rival the government. Which reminds me. I have to do my taxes, too. So many things to remember. But they will get done. Just as writing will. And I'm Will. And this has been another post.