In The Receding Mists

Every time a visit to Portugal looms, I find myself struggling internally. And I have to ask myself what is wrong with me.

Don’t get me wrong. Part of it is traveling. I despise travel and the further away I have to go the harder it is to psyche myself for it.

Yes, even cons. Years ago — I think now my grumpy nature is better understood — when I was writing six books (tradpub which is always more work/time consuming than indie books) a year, and driving the kids around, etc, friends us...