The other day my partner Mark and I put down the flooring in a spiffy new building project in our back yard: an ‘Accessory Dwelling Unit’, or ADU as the city likes to call it. It’s actually a mother-in-law apartment for my parents to use when they decide they can’t hack the Arizona heat and yearn for some fresh, cool, northwest air. This tends to be every year about the time the temps in Phoenix scream into the triple digits. Go figure.
How does that relate to writing, you ask? Continue reading “How a Novel is Like Flooring”