Hobkin is getting precariously close to being popped into a stew pot. He woke me up at 7AM this morning (after I’d stayed up until 2AM, writing) by walking over my chest and hitting me in the face with his tail. Then, when I was inclined to roll over, he dug at me with his claws (which are pointy since I just trimmed them) until I opened my eyes, bleary and sleep-fuddled.
Me: “What is it, boy? Is Timmy down the well again?”
Hobkin: “Hi Mom! I’m going to go nap under my hutch now, okay?” *traipses off*
And now I’m wide-awake. Yep, skunk-nose stew, mmmm.
Still haven’t formally outlined the novel WIP, and I think I need to do so. I’m writing all over the place in non-chronological sequence, with only slight assurance that I’ll be able to hook up the pieces. ‘Course, that’s the way I wrote my middle-grade fantasy manuscript, so I’m not knocking that strategy, but I had a better idea of where I was going with it. And I still wrote a couple scenes that I didn’t end up using.