I took the Fir Cone Square Shawl, mentioned in A Knitter’s Journey and Morning Knitting, off the circular needle last night. I shifted all the live stitches onto waste yarn, so it spreads out into a large square rather than the odd-looking bag shape it made while knitting in the round.
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I spent the last five minutes trying to figure out which cloud this afternoon sprinkle is coming from. The sky’s been blue all day, the sun shining. For the last ten minutes we’ve had a steady sprinkle, and there’s no cloud directly above us. Rain slants down from a clear patch of blue, with no discernible source. I’m sure it’s blowing down from one of the clouds that hover at the fringes of the sky.

UPDATE 2 Hrs Later
Found the clouds, thunder, lightning, and a lot more rain!

I’ve been fortunate in the past few days to read an advance copy of Eight of Swords, winner of the 2004 Malice Domestic/St. Martin’s Press Best First Traditional Mystery award. It’s due for release in April 2005.

In this fast-reading story, David Skibbins introduces us to Warren Ritter, a man with a past that he very much needs to keep hidden. Warren’s estranged sister doesn’t help with this when she discovers him reading Tarot cards on the streets of Berkley. In her excitement and anger, she announces his real name to everyone within earshot. She has good reason. She thought he was dead.
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As yet another storm front heads toward the Southern California coast, I can’t help some skepticism that rain can possibly arrive soon, because the sky here has turned blue and the air balmy. But I’m assured we’re in for a few days of rain. I plan to focus on fiction for the duration. To make up for sounding like a spoiled Californian who has no idea what winter is, I leave you with links to two stellar blog posts on writing and books, from Eric Mayer and Vikk Simmons.
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In Masks of Murder, by C. C. Canby, police detective Zeke Mallard is stabbed to death in his garage while unloading groceries from his car. As a result, rookie detective Richard Lanslow takes on the case every police detective loathes, that of investigating the murder of another officer, in this case his own partner. (more…)

Of course my next question is, who is your blog for?

Dave Pollard, at How To Save the World offers a beautifully thought out comparison in his essay, Is the Blogosphere Like a Railway Network? I must agree with Justin, who commented there, Dave’s blog is often more of a destination than a way station. But then I find myself wondering if someone who thinks and writes like Dave knows of some other interesting blogs. My gaze drifts toward his blogroll. Then I realize, his post was a response to something he read on another blog, where an article asked the question, after its author read still more blogs. A viral form of communication is taking place. This is exciting and powerful stuff!
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Is it possible we fiction writers are nothing more than escape artists who manage to write journals of our inner travels-hopefully in such a way that others willingly share our adventures? Fiction can be more enticing than reality. I would, after all, much rather imagine having a flat tire on a rainy night out in the middle of nowhere-with a complete story woven around it, full of interesting characters-than actually experience that flat tire and that wet, cold rain.
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