Yep, that would be me and mine hunched over the little bonfire on wintry Lake Woebegone.
Stupid, stubborn and always hungry for more.
This last week of research for the homestretch of my mammoth Revolutionary War drama The Hushing Days, I’ve certainly been tempting fate. Being the historical nut I am, every fresh sentence of fact I stumble across begs me to restructure the whole novel around the newly discovered mouthful.
I should really stop.
I should put down the stick, the marshmallow and douse the darn fire before the ground really starts to crackle and pop.
Will I, though?
Because I’m stupid, stubborn and still hungry for truth in fiction.
Geez, I’m such a ridiculous sort.