The horizon is hidden by thick layers of clouds and the air is dotted with bits of falling snow.
I'm wrapped in a blanket near the fire with my laptop, ready to write another 4000 nano words.
My world is filled with softness, quietness, loveliness.
You will never succeed in making me believe that winter is not the most perfect season.
PS I started my nano novel with some minor plot holes; they are now the size of a cruise liner.
PPS I'm considering doing something like this. Anybody want in? We can have a weekly group study. . . . What do you mean that wouldn't be any fun?
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