I wrote The Hundredth Horse on a dare.
Write a short story in eight hours, mock up a cover, and slap that pony on Amazon.
Surprisingly, that pony can run. I hadn’t read the story in over a year. I set it free and promised not to look back. But when a new review popped up, I decided to take another look at it. I’ve been needing a little break from The Sublime Detectives (I’ve discovered that Detective Reed has some serious PTSD and being in her head is giving me a headache but I will stick around because I have fallen in love with her and she deserves redemption) so I’m taking one week off to revise The Hundredth Horse and add illustrations.
I’ve been sketching out prancing ponies to get back into the swing of things. I haven’t picked up a sketchbook in years and my hand is a little rusty but I think think the joints will loosen up soon. I still plan on working with another illustrator for The Scapegoat Suicides (because he’s better at the gritty real-world stuff than I am and I prefer letting others sketch out their visions of my work [pure narcissism on my part, I assure you]) but this short and speculative story is my little baby and I want to cuddle her close.
Until I hand her over to an editor. Then she’s gonna learn what real pain is… it’s for her own good.
So, I’m heading over to the coffee shop where wi-fi is not an option and I’m giving Reynold and Josephine a little more air-time.