A writer’s life
As you may know, in order to live on a modern midlist writer’s income, I’ve long since become a homeless drifter – i.e., a full-time housesitter.
But the pandemic has thinned out the number of available sits and now climate change is weighing in. I was about to start a sit near the British Columbia town of Vernon tomorrow, and was planning to drive up from Vancouver Island, where I’ve been staying with my recently retired niece.
But the atmospheric river that has been drowning the west coast of North America the past few days has flooded or washed out sections of all three highways – including the TransCanada – between here and the Interior.
So the Vernon sit evaporated, and I’m looking for new gigs here in BC, where I am committed to remaining so that I have free health care (ah, civilization!) until the bug is fully controlled.
A writer’s life. It’s not for pussies.
The good news is that I can soon announce the sale of my first YA novella to a Canadian small press. Just waiting for the contract.
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