I am going to finish off Your Little Sister this weekend.

Wow, two stellar posts to follow, and man was that tough.

Every Wednesday you can find me over in Adventures in Writing. Today, I talk about the abhorrent dangers of Ethan Frome.

Screw playing the piano.

While I am at it, screw my work in progress, Your Little Sister.

Screw ammo prices,

I am going to the rifle range. It is 72F and wind is zero.

Oh ya Baby, now that’s what I am talking about.

I am a creature of the family familiar.

Sometimes, the family leaves for a trip for the San Juan islands and I catch up later, because they have the time off, but I am at work on Friday.

So there I am after work.

In a quiet house.

No wife.

No kids.

No dog.

Two angry cats.

And me, waiting for the next day so I can catch the ferry and join them.

Sounds like a recipe to get quality writing time in?

Well, no.

It just sucks.

I wish there was a local church that offered Friday services. Then I could go and sing, rather than play the piano and sulk.

Every Wednesday you can find me over in Adventures in Writing. Today, I talk about meta-writing. What is meta-writing, you ask? Click and find out!

Because I love my blog harem, yes I do. I bring you an unedited little slice from near the end of Your Little Sister. I got your conflict here, Baby. I got it down, you know what I’m saying? We’re talking conflict Big Love style, only, with nanotech—and spankings.

I step out of the garage into the rain. I make my way to the nearest vine maple bordering the woods and hike my dress up. I draw my combat knife and cut myself a nice switch. I carve the nubs off it and smack it against a cedar tree trunk to get a feel for it.

I head back into the garage to the door there, I am not too sure the front door is going to open for me. I enter the mudroom, and my borrowed cotton dress is soaked.

Percy, our dog, barks at me and not to kindly. In rushes the other dog. They growl.

I raise my switch. “Bad dogs! Bad! Now get!” I take a step towards them.

They run.

I emerge from the mudroom and there is the Toulouse family household, minus the new Wife.

“Oh fuck,” says Vash. He turns to Bill. “I thought you were joking!”

“Shit,” says Juan.

“Oh no!” says Cazandra.

“Oh, this is bad,” says Mitch.

“Where. Is. She.”

Bill points up the stairs. “Guest bedroom.”

“There’s nothing inherently dirty about sex, but if you try real hard and use your imagination you can overcome that.”

—Lewis Grizzard

I have the collector’s POD version of Larry Correia’s Monster Hunter International, and Baen has just published the first seven chapters for free.

I cannot begin to tell you how freak’n good this book is. The sheer awesomeness starts with the title, and then continues with the first paragraph, and then the first chapter, and it just goes from awesome to, yanno, awesomesauce.

Take, for example, this quote:

“I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I thought he was a pompous ass from the moment I had met him, and I felt the primal and instinctual need to beat him up and take his lunch money.”

Oh man, how great is that? I am so buying the Amazon version, just because I want to have a complete collection. Paranormal urban fantasy. With guns. And monsters. And hot chicks. And more guns! And then more monsters. I giggled like a little girl for days after reading MHI.

Just a warning. The first sever chapters are a monumental tease. Do not blame me for this. Blame Larry. Kthnx bye!

Every Wednesday I post in Adventures in Writing. Today I talk about readers.

Do you know your customers?