It's vacance de février here in Geneva. Most everyone has gone to the mountains. Not us, of course. We got that out of our systems a few weeks ago. Instead, it's been me and the girls from the moment they've woken to the moment I pass out after tucking them in. Don't get me wrong--it's been wonderful. We made apple crisp one night, and chocolate fondue for Valentine's Day. I taught them to play Crazy Eights. They let me win the first hand but have been merciless ever since. We've swum, gone scootering, and tomorrow we'll ski. It's been a fabulous week.
But what, you ask, does any of this have to do with writing a novel?
Not a blessed thing. Too tired to novel. Can......barely........type......blog.
So, without further ado, my first chapter.
Read while I weep.