I have a headache. Not the usual lord-it’s-my-turn-post, what-the-heck-am-I-going-to-write-about headache, but a HEADACHE headache.

As in, I went out last night to see Jane Lockwood and Colette Gale read from their respective works last night and had a few cocktails headache. Ouch. Remind me not to make that a habit, it’s painful.

Anyway, although I am not generally a fan of listening to people read aloud, I really enjoyed what I heard; Jane’s book, for example, has some really funny parts that would probably get lost in the reading if it were just me and my old inside-head reading voice and not Jane’s delicious British accent. And Colette imbued her much more serious reading with a stark intensity that matched the mood of the book.

So, yeah, it was fun. And drinks were had. And the best part, of course, was hanging out with other authors.

Today, I have to take that inspiring feeling of camaraderie and sit down by myself at the keyboard and continue writing. A solitary endeavor, yes, but I’ve got virtual support all over the darn place. So headache and all, I am going to knock out some pages so I can feel proud to belong to such great groups as the Riskies, the community of authors, and women who don’t mind saying naughty words in public.

I have no witty questions to ask (remember the headache thing, above?); just a ‘thank you’ the community we’ve gathered here, and it’s fabulous having such great friends. And, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go be lying down for a little bit.