The two weeks I spent in an unknown and slightly hostile environment were my novel's and my fast's undoing. I made the mistake of using those around me as models for characters and thus found myself monumentally uninterested in writing about them when the models started ticking me off on an hourly basis... and I soon ran into the waiting arms of Algernon Blackwood (short stories... weird tales) for solace.
But I still maintain the idea is a sound one, and so will try it again sometime. Maybe after my irritation at the world has worn off some.
And now, to "The Willows"...
