Still here, still battling on: if there was an award for World's Suckiest At Self-Discipline (and blogging), I would surely be a contender.
Where I am at creatively, atm? What does a soul do with creativity and inspiration? With the flow and the necessary ebb of productive humours? Do you put them in a box, a routine that allows them daily expression? Do you wait until they burst in fiery generating glory then suffer the long slow down-swing before the next up-swing? Is it something in-between? Is this in-between even possible? As an author of three books, should I have not already figured this out?
While you chew on that cud, please be entertained by a glimpse of a current WIP: a map of Brandenbrass.
As to your observation about far-seeing Idaho, Mr Alyosha, this is indeed an insight for Idaho was indeed extraordinary woman carrying much of the vigour and clarity and inspiration of the mighty, self-destroyed Phelgms. She alone of all the survivors of her original nation's fall managed to establish a new empire, and only the hard hearts and selfish ambition of her ministers finally brought that empire low by the betrayal of her equally dynamic grand-daughter, Dido, the reputed founder of the Sceptic/Haacobin dynasty. Thus, this is why the aristocracy are so keen to align themselves with such a vaunted bloodline.
How do I speak about the Derelands, Simon? I want to spout on and on, but also want to save it all for actual stories. Can I ask you what ideas you might have about it?
Time to log, cheers to you all.