Notes from just before dinner

This little Indian has had too little sleep, and can’t shake the damned bug that’s been keeping him coughing and spluttering for a week. Dinner’s on in the background, the offshoots are watching The Aristocats, and I’m not reading. I’m also struggling to get the goddamn World Fantasy hotel website to offer the right room rate so I can get that all sorted. Not listening much either to be honest, though I have recently realised that Faces are pretty damned fine.

I’ve been reading reviews of a couple of my books of late.  Good, well-intentioned reviews that made me grind my teeth.  We don’t respond, we don’t engage – not because the reviewers are crazy or bad or evil, but because they are not and we know we would only look foolish.  Still, we wants to precious, we really does.

There is one thing that has been brought home to me of late – it is much easier to sit back and point out what someone is or isn’t doing, than it is to do what they’re doing.  This is a kharmic thing. And so we learn.