As a technomad, everywhere is home. And nowhere is “home”.

Once upon a time (from 2012 to 2014) we lived on a boat. Then. We moved ashore to make some money. Recently. We drove across the US to help family. Then. We drove back to the boat.

interior of boat
Back home

The bag is at the foot of the companionway ladder. Sailbags are on the settee int he main saloon.

Life's chapters aren’t neat sequences of scenes broken into beats.

Except, of course, in retrospect, when you can edit them into structured dialog.

My non-fiction is delivered. The family support has shifted quite a bit. From one child and grandchild, COVID-19 forces isolation. From the other child, recovery from disease means daily attention isn’t essential.

The boat needs cleaning and repair.

The various books of Tales of the Red Ranger need work.

This profile of Brandon Sanderson’s rejections is illuminating.

I’ve written 2½ books of the Red Ranger saga. It’s about 400,000 words so far. If this were structured into chunks more appealing to agents (i.e., 80,000 words) it’s 5 rejected books. So. I really haven’t put in enough work.