Some pretty big changes have happened in my life since I last posted:

1. I packed up the contents of my childhood bedroom.
2. I moved to a bizarre little town at the corner of Nowhere and Touristville.
3. I started a job that demands to be treated as my life’s only priority.

Consequently, I’ve had to examine my choices lately, and some have morphed into regrets. That said, the past month has highlighted one of the perks of being a writer: No decision can truly be a mistake because all experiences become writing fodder.

I’ve had a major breakthrough with my main WIP, and I started a new short story that I’m enjoying quite a bit. Neither of these writing developments could have happened without my recent life developments—and I remind myself of this when I want to lament about being taken advantage of at work or having nothing to do because businesses  in town close by 3 p.m.

Writing is my priority. Everything else can—should—be classified as background noise or writing fodder.