Christmas dinner at my house had to wait until the 27th, after sons and family got back from Florida, but that was okay, too. Gave me more time to create one hellacious Smorgasbord. After the traditional wrapping paper and ribbon fight (no snowballs in Mobile), I'm still finding wads of red, green and gold behind and under furniture. I expect to find more as the new year progresses (like the Easter egg hunt where there's at least one egg--hopefully plastic--that I find months later).
I've started the third edit cycle of a story tentatively titled Embedded. It's another multi-genre effort--action/adventure/mystery/woman-in-jeopardy. I guess all those genres equate to "commercial" rather than "literary," but I'm satisfied with that. I'd rather be breathless than in tears.
"Christmas Is a Season 2009" is one of those multi-genre efforts also. It's an anthology for all seasons because the stories are so varied. For example, here's the synopsis from Hobbes House, my short story submission . . .
In Hobbes House, a lonely child meets a scared fox, and a dead father's tragic secret is revealed to his angry daughter. When Merrill Cowper rents her lake house to strangers, she learns that the best Christmas gifts don't always arrived wrapped in pretty paper and tied with a bow. Sometimes, they don't even arrive on Christmas . . . or Boxing Day.
Time to close and go look for some more wadded-up wrapping paper.
Keep on keeping on folks. I'll do the same.