Being snowed in isn’t the worst thing for a writer.
A snowstorm hit the Cascade foothills Sunday evening. Now at my house there’s nearly a foot of snow on the ground. Little rabbit tracks go everywhere, and also my boot tracks where I went to visit my neighbors. The cats don’t go outside—too many predators—so I brought them some snow to play with. They treated it like cold food.
I’m perhaps two-thirds through the first draft of book three. New unexpected events keep showing up to challenge my characters. One of them is becoming a god.