My humblest of apologies…

Today’s story may well be my last.

Not for lack of prompts. I have lots of prompts.

Not for lack of sales. I would do this even if my own mother never purchased a story.

It’s nothing you did or omitted. I promise.

It’s this fucking wrist. I did some damage to myself [NEVER SLEEP WITH ELASTIC ‘SOCK’ BRACER/BANDAGES ON, KIDDIES!] and I need to take a break from writing.

If you need me, I shall be going quietly insane because writing fucking hurts and I can’t not write.

You can help by paying money for my books. Yay.

O… someone give me some good fucking news, today. I need it.

?

Firkin rheumatism…

Yesterday afternoon, I did something awful to my left wrist as part of my everyday writing regime. No big problem, I put my one remaining thermal elastic ‘sock’ bandage over it and thought no more about it.

And I forgot to take it off when I went to bed.

That little fucker rolled up on my wrist and caused some more painful damage to my left wrist that now means I can’t do anything without encountering excruciating pain.

A majority of typing is done with THE LEFT HAND.

Which I can’t use.

Everything is going to be delayed.

I’m sorry.