What I Wouldn't Give . . .

For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about Mars today, and how much fun I'd be having right now if I were there, tromping around, kicking rocks, looking for abandoned or broken-down space probes and otherwise having a great time wandering around hoping not to soil myself in a spacesuit. It's thinking like this that got me started on "The Hermit of Iapetus," which led into "Oont," which has led to the wonderful case of writers blockage I have at the moment. But at least I'm writing. It may not be good, it may not be publishable yet, but I am writing. That helps.