People often envy the thrilling life I lead. And I've learned to speak humbly about it.
The many fantabulous mountains I've climbed.
My bloody bouts of MMA.
My passion for riding the rails.
And, God help me, the insanely beautiful women I'm always making love to.
So, even on an average week I'm strapped for time to post here. But for the past two weeks my kicks have been curtailed by the sort of adventures I hate to describe.
I'm ashamed to admit that I've been holed up for the best couple of weeks--and not brawling or bedding or riding the rails or wrestling alligators. Holed up, I say! Like a lowdown lonesome scribe!
And what does that entail, if not yet another party at the Playboy mansion?
God forgive me:
--I've been proofing The Alcatraz Correction for Hold Fast Press to convert into Createspace format. The second Boss MacTavin mystery will soon be available in paperback.
--I'm completing the outline for the fifth MacTavin mystery--one that takes the franchise in a brand-new direction.
--I'm also working 40 hours a week while looking for a new job before the present one moves out of town.
That's it, you ask? I know, I know. But trust me. I'll return to form soon, I promise. And once again I'll live the life led by all self-respecting Real Writers.
Reb MacRath, Action Hero.
This is my report.