I finished with my sheriff. The story finally came (teehee) together, and I've submitted it for consideration. I've edited Snakeskin Boots, and it's off for the last round of beta reading before I pull the trigger on submitting it.
So, I'm thinking I can now devote myself to my little spider monkey, who has been swinging from the rafters waiting for me to get back to him. You'd think I'm ready to sit down and weave his tail. Or tale. Whatever.
But no, someone comes along mistaking me for another writer and asking why I haven't passed a certain story on. It's not any kind of story I've ever written before. But once the damn plot bunny started bouncing around in my head, it multiplied. Soon I had a whole colony of bunnies, leaving droppings everywhere. I had to write the story. And it was a lot of fun. I enjoyed exploring the ideas in it and re-writing, and twisting the ever loving stuffing, out of ancient events, even though it's possible that no one else will ever see it. And it ensured my first-class accommodations straight to hell. But I'm okay with that. So, thanks, D. Hope you enjoyed it.
My poor monkey is still left hanging, but at least he'll forgive me.