I am currently proofreading the manuscript for the hwarhath story collection, plus two essays. The collection is set to come out next spring. After that, most likely, I will move on to putting together a collection of Lydia Duluth stories.
I'm still trying to come to terms with Kathe's death. I wrote a fairly long post about K and old age, sickness and death today. But I decided to delete most of it.
My hwarhath collection includes three stories about the hwarhath actor Dapple, one set when she is a baby, one when she is 20 and one when she is 40. I have a fourth story set when she is 60 and beginning to worry about old age. (The hwarhath live longer than humans do at present, but Dapple's profession is highly physical. Hwarhath actors do a lot of dancing and tumbling.) The story is also about the death of the Ettin matriarch, Ettin Taiin's mother, and about Taiin growing old. I should finish it. I think I need to write about old age and mortality.
It started to rain between three and four and still coming down heavily, with flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder. Patrick has a cold and has gone to bed. I think I'll retire and read a book on paleontology. Long-extinct life forms always cheer me when I am depressed by mortality. It's way too late to worry about them. Instead, I can reflect on evolution and the splendid progression of always-changing life.