Eric Mayer

One last entry will make seventeen for January. Maybe that's too many. I tried to fry a pot holder for dinner yesterday. The skillet was filled with sliced potatoes and a little oil but after the gas had been on a minute smoke started rising from the saucepan on the back burner. That was the pot holder in the bottom of the pan cooking.

I'm not certain that averaging a journal entry every other day caused me to turn on the wrong stove burner but I am sure that writing about singed pot holders is a clue that I've exhausted my inspiration. I'm not even up to describing the smell.

Luckily February is due to start out with a bang. Within four days we've got the Super Bowl, Super Tuesday and Groundhog Day. I'm not sure any of that will inspire me to write anything, but at least the commotion should wake me up. So, I'll see you next month, then.

I'm not even going to mention the hominy.

Eric Mayer Byzantine Blog Probably the only vaguely interesting thing about me is that with my wife, Mary Reed, I co-author the John the Eunuch mystery series set in sixth century Constantinople. But that doesn't stop me from dwelling here on the boring minutiae of the rest of my life, present and past, along with the occasional word about writing.
:: JOURNAL HOME :: SUBSCRIBE TO THIS JOURNAL :: Eric's Website :: Poisoned Pen Press :: Cruel Music :: Diana Rowland :: Do You Write Under Your Own Name? :: eFanzines.com :: Electric Grandmother :: Fanzinia Strikes :: jimsjournal :: Jerz's Literacy Weblog :: Keith Snyder :: The Lady Killers :: My Incredibly Unremarkable Life :: Mysterious Musings :: Mystery of a Shrinking Violet :: Mystery*File :: My Wierd World :: Off the Page :: outtamyhead :: The Rap Sheet :: reenie's reach :: rhubarb :: spy scribbler :: susurration :: This Writing Life :: Type M for Murder :: What's Up at BooksForABuck.com :: Woodstock's Blog :: EMAIL ::
Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (7) Eric's Website Poisoned Pen Press There is no pleasure to me without communication: there is not so much as a sprightly thought comes into my mind that it does not grieve me to have produced alone, and that I have no one to tell it to. --Michel de Montaigne		2008-01-31 2:18 PM Too Much One last entry will make seventeen for January. Maybe that's too many. I tried to fry a pot holder for dinner yesterday. The skillet was filled with sliced potatoes and a little oil but after the gas had been on a minute smoke started rising from the saucepan on the back burner. That was the pot holder in the bottom of the pan cooking. I'm not certain that averaging a journal entry every other day caused me to turn on the wrong stove burner but I am sure that writing about singed pot holders is a clue that I've exhausted my inspiration. I'm not even up to describing the smell. Luckily February is due to start out with a bang. Within four days we've got the Super Bowl, Super Tuesday and Groundhog Day. I'm not sure any of that will inspire me to write anything, but at least the commotion should wake me up. So, I'll see you next month, then. I'm not even going to mention the hominy. Read/Post Comments (7) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top