This week has apparently disappeared down the rabbit-hole of Under the Poppy revisions, though I did pop in to a convention last night, where Christian Klaver and I talked briefly but intensely about work, work habits, what we’re reading, what we’re writing, so that counts as working too, doesn’t it?  True, we had fun, but then work is supposed to be play.  Remember, the Operative Word is in effect for all of 2010, at least . . . Actually, if I’m not having any fun with a book, a story, an essay. that’s the first, worst sign: This Is Not Good.  If the writer’s not enjoying it, why in the world would anyone else?