This proves I don't have writer's block because my mind is in constant whirl, often causing me not to focus on the task at hand. So there I was serving my husband his lunch. Mmm - Crockpot chicken drizzled in BBQ sauce, three bean salad and a third bowl, which I don't actually remember putting in front of him.
When he calmly asked, 'Is this cat food?', (not sure of the punctuation here, but that's what my book editor corrects), I stopped mid-stride on my way back to the kitchen and returned to look down into said bowl. By jingo, it was!
Had I been paying attention and not thinking of the book signing I was to attend that afternoon on our pretty Victorian downtown Centre Street then segueing into the phrasing for the end of chapter 21 in Mark of a Man, I'm sure I would have served him the dog's food he prefers.
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