Wingstubs hurt. Much writing to do. So here's a picture of Hobkin from last night. He climbed up and flopped his head on my foot:
He stayed like this until my foot and leg fell asleep, and I was forced to move him. I set him at his more customary position at my side, where he was more than happy to resume his nap.
I am naught but a skunk pillow.
The interview lynnejamneck did with me is now up at Strange Horizons.
Club 100 for Writers: 7