Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies, The Author Wears a Paper Bag

I’m spending some quality time with the keyboard tonight, chasing the elusive end of the Flotsam story-sequence. I keep scribbling notes in the margins about things I’d like to mention when I eventually do the Flotsam recap, given the somewhat usual space the entire thing occupied in my process, but that’s most just keep the hamster wheel inside my head spinning while it comes up with the bit that comes next.

It’s remarkably tempting to just type Rock’s Fall, Everyone Dies, but somehow that doesn’t seem an adequate conclusion for Keith and co (Public Service Announcement: the link in the sentence prior to this leads you to TV Tropes. God knows I just lost 45 minutes tooling around following links. You Have Been Warned).

Because I’m packing and they’re around, I find myself working while wearing the dreaded paperbaghat. Basically, I’ve spent much of the evening looking like this:

Never trust a writer with an empty paper bag

And, as is traditional, I forgot to take the damn thing off when I answered the door to collect tonight’s pizza order. Such are the dangers of succumbing to the paperbaghat’s dread allure.

-FACEPALM-

Stupid paperbaghat.

The pizza guy, god bless him, didn’t say a word.

 

PeterMBall

PeterMBall

Peter M. Ball is a speculative fiction writer, small press publisher, and writing mentor from Brisbane, Austraila. He publishes his own work through Eclectic Projects and works as the brain in charge at Brain Jar Press.
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