Greetings from a post-Academia world from this your new Master.

Now that I have won writing and all that sweet, sweet George R. R. Martin money is on its way (I can recycle as many jokes from Twitter as I want to, now that I'm a master), I shall soon find myself with plenty of time on my hands, so I figure I'd update ye olde blogge and let the two of you who care know what to expect in the near future.

First of all, I didn't just walk across the stage and get handed an empty diploma holder for my health. I'm coming out of this program with two short stories that I'll be revisiting shortly and and a new novel that's in revision.

In two weeks, I'll be returning to HartLife studios to begin work on the post Our Fair City show, whatever that may turn out to be. Will it involve this weird statue in England? Maybe. Who knows. (Probably.)

Beyond that, there is Deathscribe, the annual horror radio play festival and perennial rejecter of my scripts to submit to. One piece is in revision, the other needs to be written. Will Deathscribe X (in SPACE!!!) be my year? Will I get weird space armor and kill the cast of the Kevin Sorbo vehicle Andromeda? Will you submit to Deathscribe and rob me, yet again, of a slot causing me to devolve into some sort of feral wolf-creature who will stalk you in the night? Only one way to find out.

SUBMIT!!! (Or not.) Ha ha. Just kidding. You should totally submit. (Don't.)

SUBMIT!!! (Or not.) Ha ha. Just kidding. You should totally submit. (Don't.)

Beyond that there's the Lovecraftian audio drama I've been meaning to write.
And the space mystery audio drama I've been meaning to write.
And the superhero audio drama I've been meaning to revise and submit.
And what ever happened to those "children book" scripts.
Oh and hey, where did this mountain of books come from?

Basically, now that I'm done writing taking copy-editing test and writing papers on the nature of truth in Arthurian Romance, I can get back to all that other stuff that I've wanted to do, talked about doing, thought about doing, but darnit, look at the time. Can't do that. Also I can go back to the gym. And apply for writing jobs.

But most importantly, you may call me Master now.