Weary on this shortest day of the year from slogging away on my novelette - the technical term for the story I'm writing as it's no longer short, but not wordy enough to be a novella. There's a temptation to punch ahead and make it so, but I need feedback on what I have. Perspective has "slipped the surly bonds of earth," as the poet
said, and I crave input. Alas, I have no more signed Freakazoid posters to offer as inducement. Perhaps plastic grapes? Or a gnome child, left in my barbecue. (Actually, I already turned it over to the county. But my wife has photographs if we can figure out what's wrong with her Canon Sure-Shot.) Anyway, something.