So here we are, a full year from the time I first started writing the Planet. Unfortunately, this joke is as ruefully true today as it was a century ago.
This has been a great year. I hope you all have had as much fun as I have. But, as Carolina Moon said, nothing lasts forever. I'd felt the quality of my posts slip, so it was time to pack it in. As Stephen suggested, I may just go on hiatus. I don't know. I'll leave the Planet up so that I can come back (I don't know how not to leave it up), maybe after I get this novel well under way.
It's always been a source of wonderment that so many great writers came here regularly to get a laugh. Thank you.
This year, with your encouragement, I finished that ghost novel, I wrote my first screenplay and got back to my WIP, one I think will be good if I could only find the time to write it, which is another reason I'm going dark. A steady job makes the mortgage lenders happy, but it is truly the writer's curse.
After all the political posts I've put up, I find it fitting that Donald Rumsfeld and I are leaving on the same day, although I think I had a better year than he did. I made mistakes, but no one got hurt. OK, except for that hooker in Phoenix, but that was Stephen and Dusty's idea, not mine.
Feel free to drop me an email. You know where I am. And I'll be making silly comments at all my usual haunts.
You might check back here after the New Year, say in February, and I might have something new up. Or maybe not. Hell, if something shiny catches my eye this afternoon, I might have something new up. The point is, I'm not planning to. And that takes an enormous weight off.
Weightless. Yeah, that's me. Weightless.