Not Necessarily A Day Off

Had two real days off. Off-off, not a word written, not a word edited. First day off, my mind went, “Ahhhhhhhh.”

Second day off, my mind started playing with a book I read by Rupert Sheldrake titled Dogs That Know When Their Owners Are Coming Home, and various nasty flamewars I’ve read in the letters sections of a handful of scientific journals between strict animal behaviorists and the animal cognition camp (these get vicious), and something I read about arms dealers.

I was mowing grass. Lotta grass. Long time mowing. These three elements kept bouncing around, colliding into each other, morphing and sliding and suddenly I had a great idea for a romantic suspense novel.

Today, third day off, I’m doing a ten-page proposal.

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