So blogging is supposed to be the dispensation of interesting observations and bits of life. Frankly, I an useless at it. I have trouble envisioning what about my life would be considered interesting by anyone else.

Marketting your books is supposed to be a big part of an author’s job, but I’m lacking in that area, too.

It’s a good thing I get a pension check every month, because I would starve if my writing skills were all that I had going for me.

Anyway, Grog is selling well, better than most of my recent books, and the reviews are popping at a refreshing rate; I cannot thank my readers enough, particularly those who follow my work. More than anything else, I just want people to enjoy my work the way I have enjoyed the writing of so many writers.

Meanwhile I am examining stalled projects, and hunting inspiration, that magic spark that will blossom into a plot that will go the word-count distance.

I’m close on two options that the moment, and for the last few months I have been hoarding movies and TV series on my DVR and Amazon Prime account; this week I will start watching them in the hopes of jump-starting inspiration.

In the meantime, I’m reading The Master’s Compass and cleaning up typos. I can improvise covers, I have a small but incredibly wonderful fan base, but the lack of professional editing is not something you can get around.

In less than two days the latest upgrade to Hearts of Iron 4 will come out, and I will once again bury myself in WW2: the What If. Fortunately, my gaming habit provides inspiration to write.