My usual tradition is to sit and read by candlelight on the night of the winter solstice.

Tonight, in lieu of that, I have parked myself in front of the fire and written 2666 words on a very sekrit project indeed. If you are one of the half-dozen people who recognize what this means, keep it under your hats, but: it is a revision of a very old piece indeed, one for which a solstice-night start is apropos.

May it fare well in the new year.

I also need to write “The Gospel of Nachash” before the end of the year, but that’s still waiting on the ironing out of some theological wrinkles. That story will be 99% prep time, 1% writing time, I swear.