The tax forms are in the mail, and the weather forcast for tomorrow is rainy, so my weekly Saturday morning tennis game was moved to Sunday morning, which means . . .

I can work all night on writing tonight. I'm probably peculiar in that I don't have a daily writing quota like a lot of other writers. Sometimes I'll go weeks without "writing" although I may research a story or work out an outline before the actual act of setting down a first draft. Then, when I have a weekend night where I can work undisturbed for a large block of time without having to worry about getting up early the next day, I'll work in a long, concentrated burst. Often, I'll get the first draft of a short story done in one sitting. And because I've spent lots of time in pre-production, the later edits are usually for minor clean-ups, not major rewrites.

I have tonight's story all laid out in outline form, scene-by-scene, and have been waiting for weeks to get around to actually setting it in a first draft. Unless something unexpected comes up, I should have a reasonable first draft by around 3:00AM or thereabouts.

Ooh, look, Turner Classics is showing the Marx Brothers this evening. Damn.