Contagious

Nobody in my circle of friends talks about Covid anymore, except to say how many times they’ve had it.

I haven’t felt left out. I had Type B Influenza during the same timeframe. I was sure I would die. That’s relevant.

Thursday morning I went to the dentist. That afternoon I felt terrible. Linda administered a home test kit, and we have a winner in the reverse lottery.

The dentist wasn’t worried. I respect that, although his staff might have had second thoughts if they’d had to take care of me. Not as bad as the flu, but bad enough.

I sweated it out last night. This morning, I went outside. Linda is washing the bed linens, again. According to prevailing etiquette, I will be judged free of contagion by tomorrow.

Is that like, first thing tomorrow, or do I have to wait until noon?

Unfulfilled

It’s Tinkerer Wednesday! Today I’m contemplating the fill port on a West Bend Manufacturing Webalco 17209 liquid-core electric skillet, and wondering where I can get high-temperature silicone heat-transfer oil on the cheap.

Update: A reader recommended DOT5 silicone brake fluid. I tried it. It works!

#saladmaster #regalware #lifetime

Contested

A solicitation for a First Chapter writing contest caused me to restart work on a Ghosts of Ancient Vidura follow-on — now at eight chapters, too sketchy to submit to a competition much less post any of it on my website, although that’s what I’m about to do.

Why? Because feedback is valuable, and one never knows where it’ll lead. As to the contest in question, even if the manuscript was ready-for-reading, terms of service didn’t stipulate sharing of judges’ notes with authors. Feedback is unlikely. I’ll save my twenty dollars for a better offer, but thanks for making me start writing again.

Meanwhile, I was curious enough to read the submissions of prior contest winners and runners-up, a reminder not to care a whole lot about what publishing gatekeepers are looking for in works of fiction. Thematically, not what I’m doing. In terms of voice, the experience left me uncertain about my approach.

I don’t wax lyrical in early chapters. I could. I know how to do it, but I don’t. In my view, and that of many authors, opening lines are best dedicated to arrival at the inciting event. Tell the reader what the grass smells like after you’ve dragged him into the story.

Here's my sketchy first chapter, first draft. The book is yet untitled. What do you think? Should this passage be more evocative? Tell me in the comments.
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