The Bloody Gulch is my next novel and am hoping to have it out sometime this year. I've finished proof-reading it two or three times, but am rewriting parts of it that don't do much in moving the plot along. It seems like every time I get into the middle of writing it, Walgreen's Pharmacy calls to tell me I have a prescription to pick up. I admit I take a few prescriptions, about half of which are supplements that are prescribed, and the other half regular prescription drugs for one thing and another. The doctors have to make money somehow, they tell me. If it isn't a prescription its a lab test that I have to have.
See how it is, I'm off the subject already, and keeping up with all the blogs takes time, but I don't want to miss anything that I like or think important concerning writing and what-all. I guess I'm just the world's biggest complainer. Maybe if I stopped complaining and devoted that time to writing, I would have been finished with The Bloody Gulch. It isn't like I don't have anything else to complain about, I do, of course. They used to tell me that if you weren't bitching about something you weren't happy. I guess I'm just the happiest feller you ever did meet.